A Green Leaf of Athelas
by Gold Banshee
Summary: Sequel to Kingsfoil. As Arwen and Athelas face the changes that the War brings to them in Imladris, Legolas tries to support Aragorn, while finding, to his horror, he and Gimli are becoming friends. Aragorn faces his own trials and temptations.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own nothing. I only write for fun, not money.

A/N: Third time must be the charm. Sorry for leaving it so long.

Chapter 1

Thranduil sat in his study, only half listening to the voice of the young elleth reading beside him. His mind returned again to the missive he had received that day from Elrond of Rivendell. There was need of a council. Evil things and evil deeds were increasing in the world. Gandalf and Elrond, ever tireless in their vigilance, sought the advice of all the free peoples. He turned the thing over and over in his mind, sipping on his Dorwinion, the calm tones of his daughters-in-law's reading sweet and soothing. Until something she said made him start.

"To his most great and high majesty, King Thranduil, Dread Lord of the Mirkwood, all honor and greetings . . . "

Thranduil choked a bit on his wine and held up his hand. Athelas stopped and looked at him with a curiosity that had a touch of mirth about it. She was reading to him from a letter sent by her closest friend, Arwen. The firelight and candles cast a friendly glow about the room, deep in the Hall, where they had spent many comfortable hours together.

"I have known Arwen since she was a child, Athelas, and she never said anything so ridiculous in her life!" Thranduil told the smiling elf beside him. Athelas stretched in her chair and laughed softly, something she was much more prone to do these days. The relationship she shared with her father-in-law had always been easy and now it had deepened into a frank and open affection that delighted them both.

He regarded the slender elf beside him affably. Raised as Arwen's companion in Rivendell, Athelas had a serene and reserved nature that suited Legolas well. Happily, her time in Mirkwood had helped her realize that frivolity also had a place in her life, leading her to expose her more playful side. She had settled in well, the duties of Lady of the Hall resting easily on her responsible shoulders. Her consideration of others and ready wit quickly made her many friends in her new home.

"Forgive me, my Dread Liege," a grinning Athelas replied. "I've just always wanted to say that. It sounds so commanding, doesn't it?"

"I don't see you using it on Elrond!" he retorted, putting his cup down beside hers and refilling both. "What does she really say? If it has the word 'majesty' in it, I'll give you half the Mirkwood."

She toasted him with her refilled glass. "She says, 'Give my love to Thranduil and thank him again for all his hospitality on our last visit. We are eager for a chance to reciprocate. Unfortunately, we have no spiders.'"

Thranduil laughed and waved his hand at her. "Well, go on, give me all the news. How many new gowns has she made? Any tidings of her Ranger?"

Athelas skimmed through the letter, frowning near the end. "She speaks vaguely of some trouble in Imladris, and Aragorn has gone on a journey for Gandalf. She seems worried, though she does not say so."

Thranduil sighed. "Yes, I thought she might be. Elrond sent word in his message to me that he's calling a council, and wishes a representative from Mirkwood to attend. I had considered going personally, but I think I must stay. Mirkwood is not safe now, and my place is here, defending my people. What would you say to a trip to Rivendell, my dear? Legolas will attend the council, and you will have time with your beloved Arwen." He smiled at her, "Just don't come home spouting all those 'my lords' and 'my lord kings'. It took us long enough to break you of the habit the first time."

She laughed at that. Rising from her chair she stepped across to him and kissed him on the cheek. "You are so thoughtful, Father. How can I ever thank you?"

"Thank him for what?" Legolas asked, coming into the room. His patrol done, he still carried the scent of the wood on his garments. "What have you wheedled out of him this time, Athelas?" He removed his gloves and stood by the fire for the night was chilly with early autumn. His light hair glinted in the flickering glow, and Athelas felt again a rush of love for him. They had only been married a short time and she still felt a shiver whenever she saw the look in his eyes that told her she was the dearest thing in the world to him.

"You are going to Rivendell." Thranduil told his son, his grey eyes twinkling. "I have been able to convince your wife that it is her duty."

"Rivendell is never a duty to Athelas," Legolas replied pointedly. "Why the need to travel again, Father? I thought you would want me here to help protect Mirkwood." His eyes shone in the firelight, and Thranduil was reminded of the predatory stare of the eagle.

"Elrond and Gandalf believe the Evil One is gaining strength. There are rumours." He looked at his son levelly, all jest suddenly gone from his voice. "About the Ring."

Athelas drew in her breath and sank back in her chair. Legolas' face instantly became a mask of calm. She recognized it as his way of keeping his anxiety concealed. From himself as much as the others.

"It has come, then." The Prince's voice was steady. "What are your instructions regarding this council?" he asked his father. Athelas got up and poured him a glass of wine. He noticed the slight tremble in her hand as he took it. He drank it as Thranduil outlined his wishes.

"You will do what you think best, Legolas. I trust your judgement as I trust my own. I will miss you here, but whatever aid we can give at this time is imperative. Only remember that we have our own foes. Do not over commit our forces in your enthusiasm."

Legolas nodded with a steady determination. He handed the cup to Athelas. Thranduil was surprised to see the girl lay her hand on his son's arm. Legolas covered it with his own and held it. Then he realized she had been raised by Elrond, her childhood full of tales of the Enemy.

"When do we leave?" Legolas asked simply. Thranduil could tell by the set of Legolas' jaw that he was prepared to depart that moment, if asked. Not only a dutiful son, he had a courage that would have made any father proud. He felt an ache of love for this child, the image of himself but with so many of the attributes of his mother.

"In a few days. Athelas must have time to pack her finery," he joked. Athelas tried to look pert but failed and went back to her chair silently, worry creasing her brow.

"We may be gone some time, Father." Legolas said, settling into his own seat and regarding his sire. "Will you require anything of me before I go?"

Thranduil pushed away the worry that bit at him. "Yes. Let me spend some time with you before you set out." Legolas smiled at him. The bonds between father and son were deep, much deeper than many supposed, especially since the death of Legolas' mother. Thranduil, bluff, hot tempered and jovial by turns may have been seen as the opposite of his reticent and sardonic son, but the character of both was marked by the great love they bore each other.

Thranduil looked at his son with open affection and Athelas rose, making her excuses to them both. She went to her rooms and changed quickly into nightwear, then sat down and brushed out her long dark hair. When she had finished, she sat down at the small harp in the corner and began to play softly to herself. Trying to distract herself, she became busy with a new descant and did not notice when Legolas entered the room.

"It's beautiful," he told her. She smiled up at him, trying to hide the worry in her eyes.

"I believe your judgement is biased, Legolas. It is passable. With practice, though . . . " she sighed and began to stand up. He held out his hand to her, palm up, stopping her.

"Play for me," he told her, sitting down opposite her. "I would have a song. It has been too long since I had the pleasure of hearing your voice."

She looked at him through lowered lashes and then softly began to sing. He was startled by her choice. It was an old lay about a lover lost in the Last Alliance. Her voice was low and mournful.

Thranduil, passing by their door, heard the singing, and felt a tug at his heart. They were both so young, he thought, and so in love. He sent up a silent prayer that Elrond's suspicions were wrong and that life would continue as it was, without the Enemy destroying all that was good in the world. Knowing in his heart it was wishful thinking, he sighed heavily and made his way to his own chambers.

Legolas crossed the room and took her into his arms. "What made you think of that song, beloved? It was enough to make one weep."

She looked at him, silent, with only the nameless terror in her eyes.

Later that night, Legolas pulled Athelas to his chest. She was not asleep, although she was much calmer than she had been earlier. She sighed gently, and curled against him, seeking comfort as much as giving it. Tendrils of his light hair mingled with her dark tresses, and she idly played with both.

"Legolas? What is it?" she asked softly. She reached up and tenderly ran a finger across his cheek. He caught her hand and kissed the inside of her wrist.

"I was thinking," he told her simply, wrapping his arms around her.

"Yes, I gathered that," she teased. "What keeps you from your rest?"

"Nothing that needs worry you," he said quietly. "Are you more peaceful now?"

She ran a hand down his arm. "Yes," she told him. "It was just such a shock to hear your father state things so bluntly. I was being forced to face something I had half-convinced myself didn't exist. Will you forgive my cowardice, my lord?" she asked, almost in earnest.

He gazed down at her, and she caught the glint of the embers in the fireplace in his eyes. "Yes," he said, lightly. "You can sleep. Your secrets are safe with me."

She closed her eyes, and lay her head on his chest. "Thank you, Legolas." He rested his hand on her head, and lay staring into the darkness.

Athelas kept busy over the next few days, ordering the preparations for their journey and settling things for their absence. Her duties kept her from dwelling on the terror she had felt. She had resolved to never let herself give in to that horror again. As she sorted through the clothes she would take, her companion, Nimeth, came in carrying Athelas needlework packed into a small case. Athelas hugged her fondly. "I doubt I shall have time for it, dear one," she told the girl. "But it is kind of you to think of it."

"I know that you are never happy without some bit of work nearby, Lady. It weighs little and will be a comfort to you should the need arise."

Athelas laughed and put the case with her other belongings. "You know my friend, the Lady Arwen, Nimeth, and you may trust that she will keep me too busy for any fancy work."

Legolas and Thranduil spent some days and nights alone in the Mirkwood. They returned, gravely concerned about the changes taking place in their world. Yet they had both been comforted by that short time together. Both understood the implications in Elrond's summons. The Elven King gave Legolas his permission to undertake anything that would help Elrond and Gandalf. Legolas, as serious as ever, had pledged to do just that.

On the day of their departure, Athelas looked longingly at the horse loaded with their baggage and then down at her own travel clothes. "Trousers," she said wearily to Nimeth and Laernis. "I shan't be really comfortable again until Imladris." She sighed and pulled on her gloves as Laernis held her brown cloak. She gave her weapons one last check, making sure the knife in her boot was loose in its sheath. As they waited for Legolas to bring their horses up, Thranduil came and hugged her.

"Come back to us soon, Athelas. I shall miss your wit while you are away," he told her, his eyes twinkling.

"My heart shall not be light until I am with you again, Dread Lord," she told him, kissing his cheek.

"Saucy girl," he replied, a wide grin on his face. "Your heart shall be merry the moment you step foot in Imladris. Do not forget to give my love to Arwen."

"Never would I forget a request of yours, my king," she said, dropping a low curtsey before him.

"Legolas!" Thranduil called to his son. "You had better be on your way. Her Rivendell manners are already beginning to return!"

Legolas laughed as he led their mounts to the small group of people. He passed the reins to Thranduil, knowing his levity masked deeper feelings. He gripped his father's shoulder and was pulled into a rough hug. Startled, he returned the embrace. "Come back to me, my boy." Thranduil whispered harshly, his voice choked with emotion.

"I will, Father." Legolas told him. Thranduil let him go after a long moment and Legolas turned to Athelas. She had put on her cloak and he helped her onto her horse. She arranged the velvet folds as he swung onto his own mount. Tying the leading rein of the baggage horse to his saddle, he nodded to Athelas. With a wave, they were off. Thranduil watched after them for a while before he turned to Laernis.

"That's that," he said quietly. "Come, Laernis, let's have a cup of wine to their good journey." They went back inside the Hall of the Elven King.

As Legolas and Athelas rode, their talk turned to Gandalf. Both elves had many fond memories of the wizard and they shared them over the journey.

"I cannot remember a time when he did not come to Rivendell," Athelas said, the recollection bringing a smile to her face. "As a child I remember he was always kind, always willing to listen to the most ridiculous story as though it was truth."

Legolas looked at her with mock horror. "You do not mean to tell me that you and Arwen told fibs to Gandalf?" he asked her, his eyes dancing.

"All the time," she answered facetiously, her bright eyes sparkling back at him. "What I meant is that you could take a flower to Gandalf and spend hours telling him everything you knew about it, where you had found it, what sort of soil it grew in, what you were doing when you found it, and he would act as if it were all new to him. Then he would tell you something else about it, with such patience."

Legolas nodded, his childhood memories of Gandalf including the same feeling. "Whenever he came to the Mirkwood, it seemed that he brought excitement with him. Gandalf meant something was afoot, and though Father would grow grim sometimes, as a child I always thought of Gandalf as the beginning of some new adventure." He smiled at the thought of the tall figure in the battered hat. "I think I still do."

"Your father becoming grim must have been something to see!" Athelas chuckled.

Legolas' laugh rang out. "Oh yes, Father in a pet is talked about throughout the lands! But Gandalf knew exactly how to calm him down. I remember that before the day was out, Father was ordering things precisely as Gandalf had suggested."

"He always seemed to have the time to just sit and talk. With that pipe!" she continued. "He and Lord Elrond would talk for days without interruption. Arwen and I would be captivated. He has been everywhere, seen so much."

"It will be good to see him again," Legolas said, looking at the dappled sunshine on the forest floor. "I have a feeling that his is the voice behind this summons."

They were both careful not to speak of their real reason for this journey. They would not admit that the cold terror of Sauron had begun to creep into their hearts. They fought it down, trying to forget for a little while the peril the world was in.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

As they entered the valley Athelas gave a small sigh of happiness. She loved the Mirkwood, but Rivendell had been her home for many years and she could not return to it without joy. Life in the Hall of the Elven King had been a challenge for her, used to the open air and space of Elrond's house. Her first thought on seeing it had been that for elves to live in a cave was wrong, but over time she'd grown accustomed to it. Still, to be surrounded by the gardens and trees again would be a welcome change.

Legolas, riding beside her, noticed the sigh and smiled. "So you've been missing your home after all," he said, his eyes twinkling. He pulled his horse up, and she stopped as well. Together they looked over the waterfalls and trees of the Last Homely House. Athelas grinned at him and held out her hand. He took it gladly.

"It is beautiful," she murmured, looking at it fondly. "But I can't miss a home I haven't left." She turned her head toward him, her black eyes sparkling with merriment.

"Never left?" Legolas asked her, puzzled. The breeze played with his hair, and he felt tired and dusty. He longed for a hot bath and a good meal. They had been on the road for many days.

"Home is wherever you are, Legolas," she told him simply. She smiled at him and he felt again the overwhelming force of his love for her.

She lifted a hand to her hair and delicately pushed a strand loosened by the breeze back behind her ear and laughed. "Come. Arwen will have food and wine, and I wish to be presentable once again, my lord."

"Athelas," he began, his voice low. "You aren't going to 'my lord' me endlessly, are you?"

She shrugged and adjusted her gloves. "Not endlessly, my love. It may slip once in a while," she said teasingly. He rolled his eyes at her and laughed ruefully.

"I thought we had discussed this," he said plaintively. "You are no longer only the Lady Athelas, companion to Arwen, you're the Lady of Mirkwood."

"Yes, yes, and Arwen is Lady of Imladris. But old habits are hard to break, Legolas. It will take much longer than this for me to get used to the idea. You may have to remind me once or twice." She laughed softly at the exasperated expression on his face.

Legolas began to urge his horse forward, Athelas following behind him. "If you call me 'my lord Prince and husband' even once, Athelas, I will not be happy."

"Oh, I promise to behave, Legolas," she told him. He wished he could believe their notions of proper behaviour would coincide.

Arwen was waiting impatiently by the gate as they rode in. Athelas had barely dismounted when she was swept up in a hug by her friend. Arwen smiled at Legolas, as he lightly got down from his horse. He bowed gracefully to her, but she ignored that and pulled him into an embrace. He returned it gently and stepped back to look at her.

"What is it, Arwen?" he asked, noticing the worry in her face. She glanced at him and his companion, then linking her arm with Athelas, began to lead them to the rooms she had prepared for them.

"I am worried," she told them in a quiet voice as they walked. "Aragorn hasn't returned yet. Gandalf has just arrived with terrible news about Saruman." She looked at both of them with concern. "Thranduil must have told you why Father has called everyone together."

Legolas nodded and noticed that Athelas was holding the hand Arwen had laid on her arm. "Mirkwood is prepared to offer any aid we can," he told her. She smiled her gratitude.

"As Father and Gandalf are still deep in conversation," Arwen continued, with a knowing glance at Athelas, "you both have time to freshen up and rest a bit, if you wish. I've had wine sent to your rooms."

"That was considerate of you, Arwen." Athelas told her friend, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

"Only the best for the Lord Prince of Mirkwood and his Lady Wife." Arwen told her, laughing.

"You know we're not that formal in the Mirkwood, Arwen." Legolas chided her. "A simple Prince would suffice." He winked at Arwen, startling her.

"Are you jesting with me, Legolas?" Arwen asked in pretended surprise.

"He's developed this notion that he is adorably droll." Athelas said with feigned aggravation. "It doesn't help that he can be, at times." She smiled fondly at her husband. "Would you excuse Arwen and me for a little while, Legolas? I promise not to fill her ears with tales of your wicked ways."

Grinning broadly, he bowed and left them. Athelas embraced her friend once again and followed Arwen to her own rooms.

"Now, tell me everything," Athelas demanded as Arwen poured wine for them both.

She listened intently, sipping at her glass, as Arwen outlined the troubles her father and Gandalf faced.

"Saruman has betrayed us!" she told her spellbound companion. "He actually tried to kill Gandalf! Aragorn has gone to find the hobbits, and bring them here. I am worried and afraid, Athelas. The thought of the ring in the hands of the Enemy terrifies me!" Arwen paced the room, the gestures of her hands telling her friend more about her fear than her words. Athelas shuddered and turned the conversation away from that subject.

"And yet, the thought comes, unbidden, that this may be what impels Aragorn to take the throne of Gondor," Athelas remarked. "But at what cost?"

Arwen turned to Athelas, fear and anger mixed on her face. "What did you mean by that?" she asked.

Athelas rose to embrace her friend. "We, none of us, know what consequences will come of this." She moved her head close to Arwen's ear. "I'm frightened. You remember what your father said of the Last Alliance."

"Aragorn was not alive during the Last Alliance! He would not have made that mistake. He will not this time." Arwen told her confidently.

"Thank you, Arwen. I needed to hear that. Now, while I am here, what can I do to help you?"

"You are a guest, Athelas." Arwen grinned at her. "You are to be entertained."

Athelas let out a laugh at that. "At least let me help in the entertaining. And I'm not above helping you organize and prepare for the council. I do have some experience."

"Thank you, Athelas. I must admit your presence here is a comfort. We are expecting people from all over." She grinned at her friend. "Father says I have become even more impulsive since you left us."

Athelas grinned back. "That I can well believe. However, what will he say of me?"

"He's heard about all the spider hunting you've been doing," Arwen told her with a knowing look. "Why don't you go and get ready now? I will see you at the evening meal."

Athelas made her way to her rooms. There she found Legolas, freshly dressed and busy with the arrangement of his hair. She went to him and took the comb from him. "Allow me, my lord," she said teasingly.

Legolas sighed as she quickly and deftly continued the blond plaits. "How is Arwen?" he asked her, as she finished the right side and began on the central braid.

"Worried," she replied, her fingers rapid. "There are many things preying on her mind. The situation may be worse than your father anticipated." She quickly outlined what Arwen had told her as she finished. "There, my Lord Legolas," she finished, holding up a mirror for him to admire her handiwork. "Now you shall not disgrace your father or me."

He stood up and regarded her. "I thank you, my Lady," he said, smiling at her. "However, unless you wish to face Lord Elrond's wrath by turning up at his dinner table covered in the dust of the road, you might wish to bathe yourself." He raised an eyebrow. "I could help," he suggested wolfishly.

She laughed at him and went to prepare her bath. "I think I can manage on my own, Legolas!"

"If you wear your hair down, Athelas, it will take much less time," he said, looking through the packs they had brought. "What will you wear?"

"Whatever looks freshest, Legolas. You decide." She poked her head around the screen that hid her bath. "And I would like to wear the circlet of _athelas_ your father gave me."

She washed quickly and brushed out her hair. It was still damp as she placed the silver leaves on her head. Legolas smiled at her appreciatively, and she turned.

"How do I look?" she asked, then laughed. Growing up in Arwen's shadow had cured her of any vanity of her own person, but she still took great care with her clothes, and appearance. The deep red of her gown set her skin glowing, and her eyes were sparkling.

"As Aragorn once said to me, 'you'll do'," he told her with a good-humoured grin. "Are we now suitable to meet Lord Elrond?" He sighed. "I hope the formalities don't take too long. I am hungry!" He held out his arm to her and she placed her hand on it.

"My Lord Elrond is nothing if not hospitable," she told him in a cheery voice. "I'm sure that you will be feasting before you know it."

They made their way to the dining hall, stopping every so often to exchange greetings with other elves. They did not wish to appear rude, and so it took longer than Legolas expected. They both had many friends in Imladris, and it seemed everyone wanted to have a word with them. By the time they reached Elrond, Legolas was famished.

Elrond came down from the dais in the hall to greet them. Legolas and Athelas both placed a hand over their hearts and bowed their heads. Elrond returned the greeting and began to exchange the usual pleasantries with his guests. When Elrond turned to Athelas, she reached up to him and whispered something in his ear. Elrond smiled and inclined his head.

"Of course, dear one," he told her. "Refreshment has been prepared." He led them to seats at the table, and they began to fill their plates. Legolas looked at his wife, who smiled demurely at him and then began to speak animatedly with Elrond. He sighed and picked up his fork.

"My Lord Elrond, Imladris is as wonderful as ever. It gives me great joy to be here once more," Athelas said, turning her black eyes on him.

"I am glad to hear it, child," he told her, his dark eyes sparkling. "Although I had thought you might prefer Mirkwood."

"It is a delightful place in all its seasons. Yet there is something to be said for well-tended gardens and walks." Athelas said happily. She took a sip of her wine. "One is able to lower one's guard when strolling through Rivendell."

Elrond looked at her curiously, and sipped at his own wine. Replacing the goblet on the table, he continued. "Arwen tells me you have become quite proficient at hunting spiders."

"Yes, my lord," Athelas said contentedly. "They are a problem, and they seem to be breeding in ferocious numbers as of late. Is it not so, Legolas?"

The blond elf looked up. "Yes, they have become much more vicious lately as well."

Elrond spoke again to Athelas, ignoring Legolas contribution. "I had thought that by now you would have given up hunting all together, Athelas."

There was a spluttered choking sound from Legolas. Everyone looked at him as he drank his wine, trying to pretend he had not heard Elrond. Arwen noticed that the tips of his ears had gone very pink.

"You are not a child any longer, Athelas." Elrond began. She looked at him and blushed.

"In troubled times, Lord Elrond, sometimes ones personal desires are best set aside for a time . . . " she broke off, as Legolas dropped his fork. Arwen whispered furiously to her father for a moment. When Legolas returned from under the table, the conversation had turned to the condition of the roads on the passes. Legolas looked about, relieved.

Athelas laughed merrily and began to eat. Legolas smiled at Arwen, who winked at him teasingly, and enjoyed his meal.

After dinner was over, they went out to the garden, where Gandalf was waiting for them. He had been deep in thought, and started as they came out.

"They should be here by now," he told Elrond abruptly. "We need to send out search riders." He nodded absently at Legolas and Athelas, barely registering their presence.

"In the morning then," Elrond said. Gandalf shook his grizzled head.

"Now, Elrond. As soon as they can be readied."

Arwen turned and began to run to her rooms. Athelas followed her. Once there, Arwen began changing into riding clothes. Athelas helped by fetching her boots, her gloves. Arwen was shaking with apprehension. Athelas grabbed her hands, forcing her to look at her.

"You must calm down. You will do no one any good rushing off in a panic," she told her friend. Arwen nodded and took a few deep breaths. When her hands stopped trembling, Athelas let her go and helped Arwen finish dressing. When she had done, Athelas pushed her into her chair and began to rapidly braid Arwen's obsidian hair.

"Be done, Athelas!" she snapped. "Who cares what I look like?"

"You will care if you get your hair caught in a stray branch. Stop fussing. I'll be finished in a moment." She was as good as her word, and Arwen hastily strapped on her sword. Athelas had to hurry to keep up with her friend's long strides as hurried off to the stables. Once there, she and Athelas readied her mount and Athelas held the bridle while Arwen leapt into the saddle.

"Go. I will take care of everything here." Athelas told her. Arwen reached down and gave her hand a squeeze. "May the Valar go with you. I pray you reach Aragorn quickly."

Arwen nodded and turned her beast. Before she reached the gates of Rivendell, she was at a gallop.

Athelas hurried back to Elrond and Gandalf. Legolas had gone to round up searchers and maps. The elf lord and the wizard looked at her.

"Where is Arwen?" Elrond asked her with slight surprise.

"Arwen has gone in search of Estel," she told him quietly. He furrowed his brow and glared at her. Athelas stood her ground.

"Lord Elrond, she is an excellent rider, there are few better. She is armed. Do not be angry with her. She had to go."

"What of her duties here?" Elrond asked. "She is becoming much too rash."

"I will assume her tasks while she is away, my lord. I am sure she will not be gone overlong."

Legolas returned with several elves, distracting Elrond. He gave Athelas a long look before turning to the riders. Elrond outlined the search area, and Gandalf urged them to be off as quickly as possible. The riders, understanding the need for haste, hurried off. Legolas gave her a brief smile and joined them. Athelas rubbed her hands on her skirts and headed off to the kitchens, where she began Arwen's tasks of organizing the meals for the next few days. Having lived long in Rivendell, she was welcomed back heartily, and salved her worry for her friends in work.

The next few days passed slowly for Athelas. She worried constantly about Arwen, fearful that her love for Aragorn would overcome her better judgement. She felt anxious about Legolas as well. She had every faith in his abilities, and pushed down the occasional stab of fear for him. She went from task to task, performing duties she had long done in Rivendell, and in the evenings sat with Elrond, as serenely as ever, working at a piece of embroidery. Elrond marvelled at her calm until he caught her picking out her stitches.

"They will be well, Athelas," he told her gently. She smiled up at him, putting aside her work.

"I trust that they will, Lord Elrond. But I fear I shall not rest easy until they are all back in Imladris."

Arwen returned first, carrying a fading hobbit. Elrond rushed to her as soon as she was sighted and taking the unconscious Frodo, hastened back to the house, calling for Gandalf. Arwen, exhausted, led her horse back to the stable where she was greeted by Athelas.

"Are you all right?" she asked her friend, worry written in her eyes.

"I am fine." Arwen told her, weariness in every line of her body. "But I am afraid Frodo may not survive. The Wraiths were very close, and the wound is serious."

Athelas would let no one tend to Arwen but herself. She sent for hot water and ointments, and ordered a meal to be prepared at once. Exhausted, Arwen let her companion bathe and dress her injuries, and sat down to eat as soon as the food arrived. After finishing a glass of wine with Athelas, who sat wide eyed through Arwen's narration of the tale, she went to confer with her father. Athelas went back to the kitchens to oversee the preparations for the evening meal.

She heard a commotion in the halls, and when she went to investigate, her apron covered in flour, she found that the delegation of Dwarves had arrived. Unfortunately neither Elrond nor Gandalf could be spared from tending Frodo. Arwen rushed down the hall, nearly colliding with her friend.

"For goodness' sake, Athelas, get cleaned up and help me! I've welcomed them and sent them to see their rooms. I'm going to find Bilbo, I believe he's somewhere in the gardens. Please, see to their comfort until I get back!"

"Of course," Athelas agreed, tucking up her skirts and sprinting to her rooms. She quickly washed and made herself presentable, then headed to the Hall to attend to their company. The dwarves were seated around the hall, mugs in hand, listening to music someone had thoughtfully provided. She went to the oldest looking of the deputation and curtsied low before him.

"I am Lady Athelas, my lord. My most sincere apologies that my Lord Elrond is not able to greet you himself. An emergency has arisen. May I ask if your needs have all been met? Is there aught I can do for your comfort?"

A younger dwarf came up beside him and made a slight bow. "I hope that our arrival has not inconvenienced you too much, my Lady," he said politely. Athelas was not sure if he was as courteous as he sounded. There was a glitter in the younger dwarf's eye.

"It is I who must apologize, my lord," she said quietly. "Please believe that nothing but the utmost necessity would keep my Lord Elrond from greeting you himself."

"That's enough, Gimli," said the older dwarf. "I am Gloin, and this is my son, Gimli. We are from the Lonely Mountain." He named his other companions and they all inclined their heads to Athelas. She made another curtsy.

"Has Bilbo been told of our arrival?" Gloin asked her. "I thought I understood from the Lady Arwen that he had been."

Athelas smiled at him. "Master Baggins has aged somewhat since you last met with him, my lord. He has developed a fondness for sleeping in the sun in out of the way corners of the gardens. It may take a few moments for him to be alerted to your presence."

"You _lost_ Bilbo Baggins!" Gimli said, accusingly. Gloin stared at his son, then turned to the elf in front of him.

"Forgive my son, my Lady," he said kindly. "He is unused to elvish ways."

"I must ask forgiveness, Master Gloin. I have kept you talking when I should have been attending to your comfort. Master Baggins will be brought as soon as it is possible. The evening meal will be ready in a short while. Is there anything I can bring for your ease in the meantime? Is the music pleasing?" She felt the muscles in her cheek twitch at the accusation of losing Bilbo. The hobbit had a disconcerting habit of disappearing just when he was most wanted. Somehow, she felt an impulse to laugh. She pushed it down, but her eyes were bright with merriment.

"The music is well enough." Gloin said, with an answering smile in his own eyes.

"Aye, if one could understand the words." Gimli said gruffly.

"Your pardon, Master Gimli," she said. "I shall attend to it directly." She looked with relief at Arwen ushering a smiling Bilbo into the Hall. The dwarves gathered around the hobbit and greeted him enthusiastically.

"How did it go?" Arwen asked in a whisper. Athelas hid her giggle behind her hand.

"The young one, Gimli, is a bit outspoken," she whispered back. "But the others are all politeness. Pardon me, I must ask the musicians to sing in a language our guests can comprehend." She spoke to the elves, who gladly switched to the common tongue. On her way back to Arwen and their guests, she saw an older elf gesturing to her urgently.

"The prince has returned, my lady," he told her, "and he is asking for you."

"Where is he?"

"In the courtyard. I have told him of the Lady Arwen's return."

"Thank you. Please tell Lady Arwen where I have gone."

She calmly left the hall, and once she was out of sight quickened her steps. To run would be undignified, she thought, as her pace increased.

He was waiting in the courtyard, with the breeze blowing his fair hair about his face. She reached him and, surprising herself, reached out her hand. He took it and smiled at her. She led him quickly back to their rooms where she immediately threw herself into his arms.

"I have missed you, Legolas," she told him, burying her face in his chest. He held her tightly for a moment, and then pulled back and looked at her.

"What has been going on?" he asked teasingly. "I leave for a few days, and when I return all Imladris is in uproar. What have you done?"

She poured them both wine, and then sat on her divan. Legolas took the chair he had always preferred, and toasted her. "To you, beloved," he said, taking a sip. "Now tell me what has been happening to cause you to lose all sense of propriety and run down the halls of Rivendell." He laughed at her shock. "Oh, yes. I saw you."

"In my defense, Legolas, it has been a most trying day." She outlined Arwen's return, Elrond and Gandalf's frantic attempts to save Frodo, Aragorn's journey with the hobbits, and the arrival of the dwarves. Legolas did not find Gimli's implications that they had misplaced Bilbo as humorous as Athelas did.

"Dwarves," he muttered. "Why dwarves?"

"Lord Elrond would not have invited them if he did not think it important, my love," she told him soothingly. "Please, try to be patient with them. Master Gloin is very polite and kind. His son, Gimli, is, well, feisty. I fear it is he who may be the most trying to you."

Legolas muttered under his breath, and Athelas, choosing not to hear him, began to heat water for his bath. While it warmed, she helped him out of his travel clothes and into a loose robe. Then she untied his braids and began to tease out the tangles in his long blond hair. He sighed and relaxed under her ministrations.

"I should go away more often," he told her, "if only for the pleasure of the homecoming."

She laughed and shooed him into the bath. "I should see if Arwen needs any help with the dwarves," she told her husband.

"Arwen will understand," he replied, as the hot water eased tired muscles. "Do you honestly think we'll see much of her when Aragorn returns?"

Athelas could not argue with that.

When they returned to the Hall, it was to find Gandalf and Bilbo in animated conversation with their guests. Arwen had gone to oversee the final preparations for the meal, and Athelas quickly made the introductions. A chill fell over the group as they discovered Legolas was the son of Thranduil.

"Oh, for goodness sake!" Bilbo's voice rang out. "We shan't drag up all that old business again! What's done is done, I say, and you must admit, the whole incident makes a wonderful chapter in my book."

"Of course," Gloin said, extending his hand to Legolas, who took it, gripping the dwarf's forearm. Gandalf looked up to see Arwen coming to announce dinner. Gandalf offered his arm to Arwen, who took it gratefully. Gloin surprised Athelas by offering her his arm. She took it with a smile and he led her into dinner.

Arwen had put some thought into the seating arrangements, with Gloin on her right and Gandalf on her left. Athelas was between Bilbo and Gimli, and Legolas was a few places down from her. She did her diplomatic best to keep Gimli cheerful, and discovered that if she just let him talk, he found her a wonderful conversationalist. In her heart she would have much preferred an intimate dinner with Legolas in their rooms, but she found this new duty both stimulating and amusing.

After dinner they retired to the hall. There was always music in Imladris, and Athelas found herself grateful to sit quietly behind Arwen and listen for a few moments after the hectic day she'd had. Arwen sat composedly by Gloin, who was discussing something with Bilbo. Athelas, knowing Arwen was more tired than she appeared, caught Legolas' attention and nodded her head in Arwen's direction. She was appreciative that he understood her hint and approached Arwen with a fresh cup of wine.

While she watched Legolas and Arwen, Gimli came and sat beside her. He was anxious to continue their conversation about the Lonely Mountain. With one eye on Arwen she listened to him. When Legolas strode away from Arwen, Athelas stood and excused herself to Gimli. He bowed, a genuine smile on his face, and she turned to Arwen.

"Forgive me, Lady Arwen, but I believe the days events have fatigued you more than we anticipated. If you will excuse us?" she said politely to the company. "I fear we must retire."

Amid the farewells and bows, she took Arwen by the hand and they left the hall. Legolas looked after them longingly, but Athelas shook her head at him. He sighed and turned back to listen to Bilbo.

"You are too bold these days, Athelas." Arwen told her, giggling, as they reached her rooms. "What will Father say about this?"

"Oh, he'll have many things to say. But you are exhausted, Arwen. You need rest. He'll understand that. He loves you above all other considerations."

"I would rather help Father with Frodo," she began, but Athelas would have none of it.

"I will go and check with your father. He is more than able to care for our young hobbit," she told her friend, a hint of facetiousness in her voice. " You get into that bed and I'll have some tea sent in. I'll be back in a moment."

Elrond's report was not encouraging, and Arwen understood his frustration. He was single-minded when he had a patient. The hot tea relaxed her. She was content to lay under soft blankets and share some light conversation with Athelas. Faster than she had thought possible, she fell asleep. Athelas slipped from the rooms to her own suite. She was surprised to find Legolas already there, and in a foul temper.

Shutting the door behind her, she went to the kettle to make tea. Legolas stared out the window at the autumn trees.

"What happened?" she asked quietly. He turned and looked at her, his eyes snapping with rage.

"Elrond sent me to my room," he said acerbically. She stared at him in astonishment.

"You are not a child, Legolas. He would not send you from the Hall unless . . . " she began cautiously.

"I got into an argument with that dwarf," he told her, looking out the window again.

"Gloin?" she asked, shocked.

"No, he's very courteous. It was that other one, the one you were cavorting with all evening."

She tried to hide her smile, ducking her head to check the tea things. When she felt she had control of herself again she straightened and handed him a cup. "I was not cavorting, Legolas. I was being hospitable. Arwen was in no way ready to deal with all those dwarves on her own. She was completely drained by today's events. I have spent many hours with guests in the Mirkwood, and you have never called it 'cavorting' before." She forced back a giggle and took a seat.

"I wish you would take this seriously, Athelas. I have been sent from the company in disgrace. What will my father have to say about that?"

"I do not know. I also do not plan to tell him. Now," she said, patting the seat beside her on the divan. "What was the argument about?"

"Father. That Gimli insulted him," he told her, sitting down with her.

She looked at him in horror. "Insulted Thranduil! What did he say? And how did Elrond come to be there?"

"Gandalf had gone to relieve Elrond for a while. Elrond wanted to greet his guests. I stayed there and listened attentively, as a good elf should. My manners were impeccable, Athelas. And then, after Elrond came into the Hall, Gloin went to speak with him. Gimli said something terrible about Mirkwood and Father." He looked at her with smouldering anger in his eyes.

She put her cup on the side table and folded her hands in her lap. Bracing herself for the worst, she asked him. "What did he say?"

"He said," Legolas took a deep breath, "that the Mirkwood was known to be the worst and most foul forest in Middle-Earth and he did not understand how anyone could choose to live there." He banged his cup down, and Athelas took his hands in hers.

"And what did he say about your father?" she asked gently.

He looked at her with some surprise. "I just told you," he said. She stared at him blankly.

"But, my love, that is not an insult to Thranduil . . . " she began. He pulled his hands away and stood up.

"Foul forest? How anyone could live there?" he exclaimed loudly. She jumped up and pulled his arm, forcing him to sit again.

"Please, speak softly," she told him, "this is Imladris. Sound carries. You will upset the others."

"Of course," he said, lowering his voice. "I couldn't take that, that, rock cutter having the gall to insult my home! He insinuated that if Father wished he could clean out the whole place!" he continued in a vicious whisper. "I lost my temper and told him that the Mirkwood was a pleasant home, much more pleasant than grubbing underground. Then Elrond called me, and very gently suggested that I was tired from my journey and should return to my rooms and rest."

"Legolas, to those who don't know the delights of Mirkwood, it does have the reputation of being an evil place. There is nothing we can do about that. And you must face it, my love, you do not completely trust dwarves." He looked at her sharply. She reached out and cupped his face in her hand.

"You don't. Neither does you father. Gloin was once imprisoned in the Hall. Gimli feels that as keenly as you do the insult to Thranduil tonight. But for the good of all Middle-Earth, you must keep your temper! Bilbo was right, there is no benefit in listing all the injuries elves and dwarves have done to each other. We are guests here. We must be in control of ourselves." She sighed, looking at him with love in her black eyes.

"Arwen should have been asleep hours ago," she told him. "But we must do what civility demands. And although I think I've heard enough about the Lonely Mountain for a lifetime, should circumstances require it, I will listen to even more." He chuckled softly at that, some of the anger leaving his face.

"What about Elrond?" he asked her, taking her hand and turning it to kiss the inside of her wrist.

"That," she laughed, "is the easiest part of your dilemma. Tomorrow you will look in on our Frodo, and mention to my Lord that you are ashamed that you were unable to keep your temper under control."

"I should probably add that I am terribly sorry to have caused uproar in his house at such a delicate time." Legolas told her, humour now replacing the anger.

"You see," she said brightly, "once you begin it's quite easy. He will, of course, tell you how shocked he is at your behaviour, and that he expected better from you."

"And I shall be properly contrite, and plead exhaustion as my excuse."

"No, no excuses. Lord Elrond is not fond of excuses," she said, getting up to pour more tea for them.

"You sound as if you know from experience," he teased her, accepting his cup.

"Trust me in this," she said, sitting back down. "I have done my share of apologizing to Lord Elrond, and the cooks, and the grooms, and just about everyone else in Imladris. I told you before, I was a wayward child."

"And I still refuse to believe it," he told her, laughing softly.

"I can also tell you that Lord Elrond's anger does not last long. Once you apologize to him, and to the dwarves, all will be well."

"To the dwarves . . . " he began, all his new found good humour leaving him. He put down his cup, stood and went back to looking out the window. She sighed and sipped her tea.

After a long while in thought, he came back and sat down beside her. She looked at him with concern, fearful that perhaps he could not do this thing.

"I will apologize to the dwarves before the morning meal," he said stoically. "I shall be properly remorseful for my behaviour tonight. I shall do as my father commanded me, attend this council and give whatever aid I can. But, beloved," he turned and looked at her with determination, "that does not mean I have to like it."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The return of Aragorn with three exhausted hobbits and one bedraggled pony caused yet more uproar in the gentle peace of Imladris. Arwen had kept vigil all day and nothing could keep her from running to Aragorn. He caught her in his arms and held her close for a brief moment, as if taking his strength from her. Arwen greeted the hobbits cheerfully and had them taken to the rooms that had been prepared for them. The hobbits followed quietly, Sam refusing to leave the pony until he was promised that the creature should receive the best of care.

As Merry, Pippin and Sam were led away, Aragorn looked lovingly at Arwen. She had dressed with care for this meeting and the sight of her refreshed him as nothing else could do. He noticed the small lines of worry around her eyes.

"What is it, Arwen?" he asked. "How is Frodo?"

"Not well," she told him simply. "It is taking all of Father's skill to keep him alive. Even still, Father is amazed at the strength in him."

"He is a rather special hobbit," Aragorn told her with a grin. "He is more like Bilbo than I had thought."

"Speaking of Bilbo, the dwarves have arrived," she said with a sigh. He raised an eyebrow and looked questioningly at her.

"There has been some trouble . . . " she began.

"Legolas has also come, then?" he asked, understanding on his face.

"Yes, and he lost his temper last night. Father actually chastised him. He apologized this morning, of course, but it's not like him. It is almost as if he is looking for a fight."

"Legolas?" he asked, at a loss. "He is usually more steady than that."

"Aragorn, Imladris is becoming a madhouse! Poor Frodo is in agony, there are dwarves wandering the halls, Legolas is throwing fits, and now more hobbits! If they all eat like Bilbo . . . "

"Yes, they all eat like Bilbo," he reassured her. "And these are an inquisitive bunch." He noticed she was careful not to mention the reason for this council, the thought that was in all their minds.

She sighed again and linked her arm through his. "Well, for the sake of Middle-Earth I welcome them all. But when this is over I shall enjoy some quiet time with you."

"I would like nothing better," he told her, as they walked into the house.

Legolas was in the gardens that evening, seeking balance among the trees and water. The elf had been able to give Aragorn only a brief greeting before the Ranger was swept away to Elrond and Gandalf. During the day he had managed to keep his temper with the uncouth dwarf by saying very little. This went unnoticed by the others, as he had ever been of a reserved nature. But as the sun went down in the west, he found himself needing a few moments of solitude. The changes around him were unsettling. He was breathing in the splendour of the sunset, meditating on the meeting before him, when he felt the eyes on him. He tensed, worried that it might be the dwarf, Gimli. Looking around slowly, he spied a small form peeping out at him from behind a shrub. From the creature's size he decided it must be one of the hobbits Aragorn had brought to Imladris.

The hobbit looked at him in wonder. Sam had always been keen on tales of the elves, and here was one that was fair in every way. Tall and straight and young, with the light of the fading sun setting his hair ablaze with its luminance. His eyes were bright and he looked stern. Sam had been on a walk, seeking solace in the greenery, sent away from Frodo by Elrond, when the elf had caught his attention. He had crept closer, not wishing to disturb him, but fascinated by the sight of him.

Legolas sighed. "Come out, young hobbit," he said gently. "I have no wish for you to damage the foliage." He turned and faced the small person.

Sam blushed and came forward. He looked down and stammered, "Excuse me, sir. I did not mean to trouble you. I was just, well, you're an elf, sir . . . " his voice faltered.

Legolas smiled, and the beauty of it caused Sam to believe he had imagined that this tall being could ever be forbidding. He smiled back, shyly.

"This, then, is your first visit to Rivendell?" Legolas asked quietly. He motioned to a bench, and led Sam to a seat.

"Yes, sir. Mr. Bilbo used to speak of it often, and I always longed to come and see elves for myself, but I never thought I'd actually be here, if you know what I mean, sir." Sam's eyes were glowing with excitement.

Legolas laughed at that, looking at Sam approvingly. "Rivendell is a most marvellous place and Master Baggins a great teller of tales. I do not blame you for feeling overwhelmed by it. It has often caught me unexpectedly with its charm."

"Have you always lived here, sir?" Sam asked, respectfully.

Legolas laughed again, a merry sound that set Sam's heart at ease. "No, I am from the Mirkwood. It is much different there. And my name is Legolas, young hobbit."

"I am Samwise Gamgee, sir. I mean, Legolas." Sam settled a little more comfortably in his seat and sighed.

"You are worried about your friend?" Legolas asked him kindly.

"I am. Strider says that Lord Elrond is a great healer, but he looks so grim . . . " Sam broke off, fearful of giving offense.

"Lord Elrond is a very skilled healer, Master Gamgee. I assure you that he will do all he can." Legolas said, hoping to alleviate the young hobbit's concerns.

"Aye. I hope that Strider is right and the _athelas _helped." Legolas started for a moment, and then laughed softly to himself.

"Come, Master Gamgee. Let us see if there is something left from the evening meal. No doubt you are hungry after your long trial."

Sam brightened at that. "A bit of nourishment would go down well at that," he agreed. Legolas stood and accompanied the hobbit back inside.

Arwen felt distracted beyond belief. She longed to be with Aragorn, to recover her own peace of mind, but he had gone to Elrond and Gandalf and was still with them. The dwarves ambled through the gardens, and had begun to suggest improvements in the paving and structure of Rivendell. The young hobbits, after sleeping and being fed, had bounced back with amazing resilience, and Arwen had placed them in the care of Athelas. She felt too distraught to answer all their many questions. All the while the horror of what had been brought to Rivendell sat in the back of her mind. She felt it affecting her, giving rise to a nameless terror within her.

The hobbits followed Athelas around Imladris, listening to her descriptions and stories of the place, interspersing their comments and queries with a freshness and honesty that delighted her.

She was showing them the way to the kitchens when they encountered Legolas and Sam. Merry and Pippin greeted their companion with joy.

"We thought you'd gotten lost," Pippin told him, "it being such a big place and so many people."

"I was outside," Sam told him. Legolas smiled over his head at Athelas. "This elf is Legolas. He's showing me where the kitchens are." Legolas inclined his head to the hobbits. "And these are Mr. Frodo's kin, Mr. Meriadoc Brandybuck and Mr. Peregrin Took," he told the elf beside him.

"This is Lady Athelas," Merry told Sam. "She's been put in charge of us, and we've been leading her a merry chase, I must admit. There's just so much to see here."

"Master Gamgee is quite taken with the gardens of Imladris." Legolas said to Athelas. "I was telling him of the differences in the Mirkwood."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Merry said politely. "Do you know each other?"

Athelas gave an animated laugh at that. "Yes, Master Merry, I am well acquainted with my Lord Legolas."

"Well and good then. Now, you were showing us to the kitchens, my lady?" Pippin said cheerfully, offering his arm politely. They continued on their way, the three hobbits keeping up a lively chatter. Once there, Athelas had a word with the kitchen staff regarding the habits of their diminutive guests.

"Just keep something on the back of the fire for them," she told the head cook. "They eat as often and as much as Master Baggins, according to my Lady."

The head cook looked at the hobbits fondly. "We've never had any complaints from Master Baggins," he told her. "Is there any word on the other, the injured one?"

"He is still in danger of his life," she told him quietly. "My Lord Elrond is most concerned."

Legolas had been prevailed on to share in the pastries the cook had brought out for the hobbits. He sat calmly at the table with them, watching in amusement as they fell to eating with a right good will. Athelas went up to him and spoke softly in his ear. He nodded and she smiled at her small companions. "I must leave you for a few moments to attend Lady Arwen," she told them. "My lord Legolas will guide you back to the Hall, where I shall meet you," she said, curtsying to them all. Legolas stood as she left.

Merry watched her go, chewing a pastry thoughtfully. "Why does she call you 'my lord,' Legolas?" he asked. "Are you an Elf Lord or a King?"

"No," Legolas replied, sitting back down. "It is just her way. My father is the king, not I."

"Then you are a prince?" Sam asked, choking a bit on his biscuit. Legolas poured some ale and handed it to him.

"I am the son of Thranduil, Elven King of the Mirkwood," he said simply. "It really does not mean much, as my father has no plans of ever giving up his rule."

"An Elven Prince," Sam said, wonder in his voice.

"An Elven warrior," Legolas corrected, a twinkle in his brilliant eyes. "We do not stand on ceremony much in the Mirkwood."

At the doors of the Hall, Sam left them to return to Frodo, insisting that Elrond would not send him away again. Merry and Pippin peppered Legolas with questions and finally they found Athelas. She had checked on Arwen, reassuring herself that the Lady was in good spirits and come back to her small visitors. Legolas was grateful to hand them back over to her, his ears ringing with their inquiries.

Seeing that their talk was disturbing those who wished to simply listen to the excellent music being played, she led them quietly out of the hall and into the gardens, intimating that if they wanted to smoke their pipes, it would be courteous to do so outdoors. Legolas watched her go with a fond smile. Turning around he found himself face to face with Gimli.

"Well, now, Master Elf," he began. "I see you have made the acquaintance of our hobbits. Interesting creatures, are they not?"

"They are," Legolas replied shortly.

"Much more talkative than some here," Gimli said. Legolas held his tongue for a moment, mindful of his commitment to his father. He took a deep breath.

"Most here, Master Dwarf, are more intent on listening then talking," he began, but seeing Aragorn enter the Hall, he changed his mind. "If you will excuse me," he said, "I must have a word with a companion of mine, newly arrived." He left the dwarf and crossed the room quickly.

"How are you, my friend?" he asked, with concern in his face.

"Tired, but I am well." Aragorn replied. "How are you faring?" he asked softly. "I understand that you have had words with some of our guests."

Legolas scowled and then brightened again. "I have my duty," he told the Ranger. "I am grateful that it is not for very long, though."

Aragorn laughed and gripped the elf's shoulder. Giving him a friendly shake he whispered, "Here he comes." Legolas stiffened, but Aragorn did not release him.

"Aragorn, my friend," Gimli said, reaching to clasp the man's arm. "It is long since we last met." Aragorn let go of Legolas to return the greeting.

"That is has been, Gimli," Aragorn replied. "I think you have met Legolas of the Woodland Realm."

Gimli agreed gruffly. "I have." He nodded at Legolas, whose head moved imperceptibly. Aragorn sighed to himself. _Dwarves and elves_, he thought.

With Aragorn as intermediary, they shared a few moments of stilted conversation. When Legolas realized that the dwarf was not going to leave to allow him to speak to Aragorn privately, he mentally ground his teeth and made his excuses, telling them he wanted to check on Sam.

Aragorn and Gimli watched him go, Aragorn with affection, Gimli with grim humour. "That's the proudest and most standoffish elf I've ever met," he said huskily. "Doesn't talk much, does he?"

Aragorn turned and grinned at the dwarf. "Only when he has something to say, Gimli."

Legolas found Sam outside the room where Elrond and Gandalf continued to try and heal the grave hurt Frodo had taken. Sam sat on a chair that was too large for him, although someone had thoughtfully supplied cushions for his comfort. He was the picture of dejection and Legolas felt his heart go out to this small creature.

"No change yet, Master Gamgee?" he asked softly, his eyes glowing with concern. Sam turned his tearful face to him.

"They won't let me in," he said mournfully. "I just want to help, but Mr. Gandalf showed me the door. They did say I could sit here, and that they'd let me in as soon as they could."

Legolas knelt down beside the hobbit, bringing their faces level. "It is never easy to wait," he said, ruefully. "Lord Elrond is merciless when he has a patient. But you must have hope, Master Gamgee. Everything that can be done is being done. Is there anything you need here? Can I bring you some wine, perhaps?"

Sam wiped his cheeks and smiled at him. "No, thank you, sir," he said, forcing cheerfulness into his voice. "I will be fine."

Legolas sat on the floor beside him, arranging himself comfortably. "Then allow me to stay with you," he said simply. "Sometimes sharing the trouble lessens it."

"That is kind of you, sir," Sam told him, "but you must have other things to do."

Legolas thought of Aragorn and the dwarf, Athelas and her vivacious charges, Arwen coping with the commotion in Imladris. He smiled at Sam. "Nothing more important than this."

When Elrond finally allowed Sam to sit with Frodo, his solemn face told Legolas that there was as yet no change in his patient. The elf exchanged a few words with his host, and then quietly left, making his way through the halls of Rivendell to his rooms. He found Athelas there, reclined on her divan, a damp cloth on her forehead. Concerned, he crossed the room to her.

"Athelas?" he asked.

She held up her hand to stop him. "Legolas, I must have a few moments of absolute silence," she told him wearily. "Please, if you love me, find me strong wine." He smiled at her posturing and left, shutting the door soundlessly. He went to the hall and fetched a skin of good wine and two glasses. On his return, he passed Aragorn. The Ranger looked at his burden and raised an eyebrow.

"Celebrating?" he asked dryly. Legolas chuckled.

"It seems the hobbits were too much even for Athelas," he replied. "She requires complete quiet and fortification." He held up the wineskin. Aragorn laughed softly.

"Master Gamgee seems of a different sort." Legolas continued, quietly. "He is overcome with worry for his friend."

"Friendship is friendship," Aragorn said simply. "Sam is devoted to Frodo. The others are concerned as well, but Rivendell is brand new to them."

"I do hope, for Athelas' sake, that the questions cease after a day or two," Legolas told him, a wry smile on his face.

"Give my regards to your lady," Aragorn said, gripping his friend's arm, laughter in his voice.

Athelas accepted the wine gratefully and tossed it back with an alacrity that startled Legolas. "Are you well?" he asked her, refilling the glass.

"I am fine. Thank you, my love. I needed that little time to regain my composure. I doubt that I have listened to so much from anyone in so short a time in my life."

He knelt down beside her and took her hand. "Did they drive you to distraction, beloved?" he asked, a concerned smile on his handsome face.

"Yes, but they are delightful! Such open and cheerful creatures. I enjoyed their company thoroughly." She sighed. "But they are not backward about talking! I trust I shall be used to their ways in a day or two." She smiled at him. "And how was your evening?"

"I spent it with Samwise. He is so terribly distressed about his friend." He rubbed her hand gently. "I know what that is like."

Her black eyes twinkled as she looked at him. "And the dwarf? No contention with him this evening?"

He raised his eyebrows at her, and then laughed. "No, Athelas. He is rude and artless, but I have behaved faultlessly. I will be glad when they are gone, though." She smiled at him, and raised her glass to him with her free hand.

"I knew my lord would not let himself be overcome by a dwarf," she toasted. He smiled, and turning her hand over, kissed the inside of her wrist.

"And now, my lady, I must insist on you going to your rest," he told her, a gleam in his blue eyes.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Athelas rose before dawn. Silently she crept from the bed and dressed. Checking that Legolas was still asleep, she smiled and left the room.

She walked outdoors and breathed deeply in the fresh air. Scenting pipeweed, she turned, half expecting to see the hobbits. To her surprise, it was Gandalf and Aragorn, deep in conversation. Quietly she stole away. She did not wish to disturb them and wanted to be alone with the dawn. She wandered along the familiar paths, finding refreshment in the peace she gained, anchoring herself for the challenges of a new day.

The sun was colouring the leaves with golden tones when she heard quiet steps behind her. She turned to see Aragorn, his eyes welcoming.

"Aragorn," she said, holding out her hands to him. He took them and inclined his head toward her.

"Athelas," he replied. "You look as serene as ever." He spoke quietly. She regarded him with great affection. Aragorn and Legolas were the closest of friends, and Athelas had come to appreciate the qualities in the Ranger that made Arwen love him so.

"You look well, my friend. I had thought you would still be sleeping. The rigours of the past days must have taken their toll on you." He grinned almost sheepishly at her, and she suddenly understood his early rising.

"Oh, of course," she told him, returning his smile. "Shall I see if Arwen is still abed?" Her voice filled with mischief. "Perhaps I could encourage her..."

"In a moment," he told her, a hint of amusement in his soft voice. "I wanted to tell you how happy Arwen is to have your company at this time. I thank you for coming with Legolas."

She laughed gently at that. "When duty and pleasure coincide, Aragorn, there is no hardship. Simply put, there is no place I would rather be."

He softly pressed her hand, and she turned from him, saying lightly, "I will send my Lady Arwen to you as soon as she is ready."

Arwen was already awake when Athelas reached her. She dressed quickly and fairly ran to the garden when she learned Aragorn waited for her. Athelas sighed and made her way back to her rooms, where she made tea for herself, and sat quietly for a moment, regarding Legolas as he slept.

His beauty overwhelmed her, as it always did. He was fair of face and light of hair, and as strong and limber as a young tree. In sleep his jaw did not tense with unspoken worries, and the cares of the world touched him not. She delighted in him in all ways, loving his sensitive and caring nature, his courage, his dry humour, his steadfastness once he had set himself a course. She thought again in wonder that she was his for all of eternity.

Legolas opened one blue eye and regarded her. She smiled at him and poured him a cup of tea. Bringing it to the bed, she gave it to him and climbed up beside him. He drank deeply, and thanked her.

"Are you ready for yet another day in the tumult that has beset Imladris?" she asked him teasingly. "Or shall you hide beneath the covers and plead fatigue?"

"If you are ready for the hobbits, I believe I can stand the dwarf," he replied, sighing. "I think I shall spend some more time with Master Samwise. Perhaps I can be of some use to him."

"That would be kind of you, Legolas. He is heartbroken at the injury done his friend. And," she looked slyly at him, "it should keep you out of the path of Master Gimli."

"That thought had not occurred to me," he told her seriously, "but you are right." He brightened considerably.

In the dining hall, Athelas had no trouble finding her young friends. Not only their small forms, but the large pile of empty dishes before was hard to miss. They waved to her enthusiastically and she grinned and returned the wave. She crossed to the hobbits and sat with them, pouring herself tea and helping herself to breakfast.

"Lady Athelas," Merry asked, swallowing a mouthful of fresh bread, "will we be able to see Frodo this morning?"

"I do not yet know, Master Merry. I will enquire of Lord Elrond. Unfortunately there has been no change during the night."

She saw the look of worry that passed between the hobbits. "Lord Elrond will do all that is possible," she told them gently. "If you cannot visit your friend this morning, what would you like to do with your time? I am at your disposal for the entire day."

"First we need to see Sam." Pippin told her. "He won't come for breakfast. He won't leave Frodo." Merry nodded in agreement. Pippin turned his head around to the door and saw Legolas entering the room. "There's your friend," he said to Athelas, waving at the tall elf in the doorway.

Legolas waved back and made his way through the room to them, stopping to return greetings from his friends. Instead of the robes preferred by the Rivendell elves, he had dressed in the trousers and tunic of the Mirkwood. It was almost as if he had dressed for battle this morning. Athelas smiled at him as he took a seat beside Merry.

"Good morning," he said cheerfully, looking about him. "I do not see Master Gamgee here. Has he eaten already? I had wished to speak with him."

"Sam won't leave Frodo's room. Well, his door, actually. We were just telling Lady Athelas that we would like to try and persuade him to come and eat," Merry said, taking another slice of bread.

Legolas frowned and looked over the heads of the hobbits at Athelas. "Perhaps I could convince him," he said. "He must not neglect himself, though his worry for his friend does him great credit."

"He might listen to you," Pippin said. "He told us that he was very impressed with your courtesy toward him, Legolas."

The elf smiled as he rose from the table. "I was very impressed with him."

"Legolas is very considerate," Merry remarked, watching him walk away. "Are all elves like him, my Lady?"

Athelas watched him go with bright eyes. "My Lord Legolas is one of the best of us, Master Merry," she told him.

Legolas found Sam curled in his chair, in the same attitude of despair as the night before. He quietly went up to the hobbit and gripped him by the shoulder in the gesture of greeting and comradeship. Sam looked up at him with exhausted eyes.

"How are you this morning?" the elf asked, concern in his voice.

"There's been no change, sir," Sam said wearily. "I've been here all night, and he's still in great pain."

Legolas knelt down beside him. "Master Samwise, if you would be of use to your friend you must look after yourself as well."

"I can't leave. What if . . . " Sam broke off, unable to continue the thought.

"Come with me. I will have someone wait here in your place and bring us word. You must eat and you must rest somewhere more comfortable, if only for an hour." He looked imploringly at Sam. "Truly, you will be too worn to care for him when you are allowed to."

The thought caused Sam to pause, and he smiled at the elf. "I guess you're right, sir."

"Please, I prefer Legolas."

"If you're sure then, Legolas. I mean, that someone will come as soon as there's anything to tell." Legolas nodded and went to find someone to take Sam's watch. Once Sam was assured that he would be found immediately, he followed Legolas down to the dining hall.

Athelas was on her fourth cup of tea as Legolas and Sam rejoined them. Merry and Pippin hailed Sam warmly and helped him to breakfast, taking what they called thirds themselves, so that Sam would not have to eat alone. Athelas grinned as she watched them. Legolas was quietly filling his own plate when he realized that she had turned her eyes to him. The approval and affection in her gaze caught him off guard. He smiled back warmly and set to his breakfast.

Once Sam had finished eating, Legolas escorted him to his room. He waited until the hobbit had settled himself for sleep and sat in the chair opposite the bed. Reassured once more that Legolas would wake him the instant there was any news, Sam quickly dropped off.

Legolas looked at the hobbit with tender fondness. He understood Sam's devotion to Frodo, feeling the same way about Aragorn. If Aragorn were the one injured, none of Elrond's dark looks or blunt comments would force him away either.

Athelas and her new friends were continuing their tour of the gardens of Rivendell. The more time she spent with Merry and Pippin, the more she was coming to appreciate them. In their optimistic presence, she found it easy to keep her dark fears buried. Mid-afternoon, they heard hooves approaching. _Who is it now?_ Athelas thought. The hobbits had climbed up into the trees for a better look.

"It's a man, with a horn and a large shield." Merry called down to her. "Do you know who it is?"

"I do not know. Shall we greet him and find out?" she called back, as curious as the hobbits, aware that only her long robes kept her from climbing alongside them to see for herself. They quickly slipped down from their perches, coming to stand with her on the path. The man rode up, tall and fair, like a lord in his bearing.

"You are well come to Rivendell, my lord," Athelas told him, with a low curtsey. The hobbits bowed politely and the man's light eyes twinkled as he regarded them.

"I am the Lady Athelas," she said simply. "This is Master Meriadoc and this is Master Peregrin." She nodded at each hobbit in turn. "May we ask your name, my lord?" she asked, tilting her head a bit, smiling up at him.

"I am Boromir of Gondor," he told her, looking with wonder at her companions. "Forgive me, my lady, but I did not expect to be greeted by elvish children."

"We are hobbits, not elves, and certainly not children!" Merry told him, his eyes flashing with annoyance. "I am as much an adult as you are!"

"Hobbits?" he asked, astonished.

"Halflings. Shirefolk." Pippin looked at him with vexation. "You've never heard of us?"

"I admit I have not," Boromir said with some surprise. "But forgive my error."

"If you will excuse me for a moment, my lord," Athelas began, her face mirthful, "I shall tell the Lord Elrond that you have arrived."

"Of course," he told her, never taking his eyes from the small beings before him. Athelas dropped another curtsey and quickly left to find Arwen. Once out of sight of her companions she burst into laughter.

Legolas gently shook Sam's shoulder. The hobbit was awake instantly. "What is it?" he asked.

"Frodo is awake. The danger is past, and Gandalf says you may see him as soon as you are ready." The pleasure on Sam's face was mirrored in that of the elf.

"I'm ready now," Sam said simply. Legolas regarded him for a long moment and then smiled tenderly at him.

"I believe you are. But it might be better if you did not go wandering the halls of Rivendell in your nightshirt."

Sam blushed and changed quickly as Legolas regarded the view outside the hobbits' window, a wide grin on his face.

After Boromir had been settled into a suite of rooms and the hobbits cheerfully gone in search of tea, Athelas went looking for Arwen. She found her in the kitchens, making the final decisions for the evening meal. It was the work of a moment for Athelas to convince her friend to come and take a cup of wine with her.

"Well, they all seem to be assembled," Arwen began, with a tired note in her voice. "The dwarves have talked poor Bilbo near to exhaustion, and now the hobbits are at him. Dear Master Baggins!" she sighed. "How fares Legolas with the dwarves?"

Athelas gave her a wry grin. "He now regards them as a duty. He is nothing if not dutiful."

Arwen smiled broadly at that. "Whatever must be done, I suppose. Oh, my friend, what a hurly burly it has become!"

Athelas toasted her with her glass. "To guests and councils," she said cheerfully. "May we survive them both!"

Arwen looked at her friend with a sideways glance. "Odd choice of words, Athelas," she pointed out.

"Arwen, I meant only . . . ," she began, but Arwen cut her off.

"I know what you meant. Forgive me," she continued, "I am worried, no, "she paused for a moment, "I am afraid." She looked at her companion. Athelas met her gaze for a moment and then looked down at the stone floor. Arwen nodded. "You are, too."

"I have been trying to forget," Athelas said quietly. "For a few moments, I thought I had."

They finished their wine, silently.

Legolas found Athelas that evening in the Hall. To his surprise, the hobbits were singing a catchy ditty. Athelas sat comfortably, clapping her hands to the beat and clearly listening intently to the words.

"What is it?" he whispered, drawing a seat up beside her.

"It is a riddle song, and some parts are extremely complex," she answered, her eyes still on the hobbits. The musicians had picked up the tune and accompanied the small singers. Legolas began listening closely and, after a few verses, found himself shouting out the answers with the rest of the company. The hobbits were cheered as they finished and, bowing low, accepted mugs of ale.

Gimli came to Athelas and, nodding coolly to Legolas, requested a song from her. He was so gracious she had not the heart to refuse. She chose a short song, for she knew her gifts did not lie in music, and sang of snowy nights, warm fires and stout walls. It seemed to Gimli almost dwarfish in its theme and he thanked her cordially. Legolas left them to speak to Aragorn, hoping to have a few moments alone with the Ranger. Athelas passed some time in conversation with the dwarf and when she left to join Arwen, who had returned to the hall, met up again with Merry and Pippin.

"Will you not sing again, Lady Athelas?" Pippin asked. She smiled and shook her head.

"Not alone. Perhaps if Arwen wishes to sing, I will accompany her. But my talents lie in other areas." She looked down at them warmly. "Will you delight us with another, my young Masters? For you are both clever with merry tunes."

"Certainly," Merry told her, draining the remains of his ale. He and Pippin made their way to the waiting musicians and began another song. The assembled guests and elves turned their eyes to them, and Athelas slowly made her way to Arwen.

"How are you, my friend?" Athelas asked her quietly.

"I am worried. There is much tension in Rivendell right now," she whispered back.

Athelas squeezed her friend's hand. "It will be well. There are not many who would cross your father in his own house."

Arwen gave her a rueful glance. "Unfortunately, all those who would are now under his roof. Look there." She motioned to Gimli, Aragorn, and Legolas. Oblivious to the tune of the hobbits, their conversation continued, the gestures of Aragorn and Gimli becoming more animated. It was apparent to both the watching Ladies that the talk was growing heated.

Athelas pulled her friend by the hand to where the hobbits had finished their song. "My Lady will sing," she whispered to them. The musicians looked expectantly at Arwen. She looked at Athelas a long moment, and then nodded. Turning to face the company, she raised her high, sweet voice in a clear tone that caused every head to turn toward her. After the first few notes the musicians joined her. Arwen held Athelas' hand still, and pressed it firmly. Athelas joined her voice to her companion's, and together they wove harmony throughout the room.

The contention between the man, elf and dwarf ceased as the beauty of Arwen's song filled the room. It was not often that the Lady of Imladris sang like this and the company had not heard Arwen and Athelas together since the latter's removal to Mirkwood. As Arwen's voice soared, Aragorn stopped talking altogether and simply listened, his love for her shining in his face. Gimli was struck by the complexity of the melody and the power in Arwen's voice, as well as her beauty. Legolas looked at Athelas with pride and admiration. He knew how much she enjoyed singing with Arwen and was delighted they had decided to entertain the guests.

Merry, standing to the side of the singing elves, saw all three, and was struck by a thought. He filled it away for future consideration and when the bewitching strains came to an end, was as enthusiastic as the rest in clamouring for another.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Athelas was worried. She had looked everywhere. There was no sign of Merry, Pippin or Sam. She had checked the kitchens twice, Bilbo's room several times, and had traversed the gardens. She sighed and went to Arwen with a heavy heart.

Arwen was sitting in her rooms, quiet and serene. Today it seemed that their positions had been reversed, as the usually calm Athelas was visibly upset. Arwen greeted her distraught friend.

"Forgive me, my Lady!" Athelas began hurriedly, formality enveloping her like a garment, a signal of the distress she felt. "I have no wish to destroy your tranquillity, but I have failed the in task you set me."

"Peace, Athelas," Arwen responded, startled by this unintentional demonstration of her friend's chagrin. "You have never failed in any duty to me. What has you so concerned?" Athelas took several deep breaths before she continued.

"I've lost them, Arwen," she finally said. "You told me to watch them, my Lord Elrond told me to watch them, and now I've lost them." Her voice trembled as she lingered on the last words. Arwen swung her head around to look at her friend.

"How did you do that? And today, of all days! Father was adamant!"

"I know, I know!" Athelas wailed. "Your father charged me specifically to keep them busy! How will I ever face Lord Elrond? Where can they have gone?" Unwittingly, she began to rub her fingers together, mimicking the motions of her worry beads.

Arwen was shocked by this display. Athelas was usually so in control of her emotions, so conscious of her responsibilities that to see her this upset was a sure sign of her anxiety.

"Start at the beginning." Arwen said, standing up, her alarm evident.

"We were discussing the entertainment last evening," Athelas began, "and Pippin expressed a wish to join the musicians. He has some skill with the mandolin, it seems. I thought perhaps there might be a child's instrument somewhere that he could use and went to make inquiries. I was only gone for a moment! When I returned, they were gone. All three of them!" She looked desperately at Arwen. "I've looked everywhere I could think of. If they find out what's going on this morning, your father will be furious with me!" Athelas shuddered, remembering from childhood what Elrond's displeasure could be.

Arwen looked at her companion with horror. "We have to find them," she said. "Now!"

In the end they found Elrond before they found the hobbits. He was striding through one of the courtyards when he spotted them. He dismissed Arwen, saying only that he wished a few words with Athelas. Arwen objected, but a dark look from Elrond sent her on her way.

"I am disappointed in you, Athelas. I gave you a simple task, one suited to your talents, and you were unable to execute it. Rivendell is run mad, it seems." He sighed and raised an eyebrow. "Perhaps the freedom of your life with Thranduil has made you careless."

She stood before him, her head bowed in contrition. She felt all the seriousness of her offence, and slipped back into rigid formality, her first defense when she knew herself to be in error. She listened to Elrond's words, absorbing his reproach. But at his last words she felt herself begin to get angry. When he paused, she looked up at him.

"Forgive me, my lord. Long have you been as a father to me, and to have displeased you is grievous to my heart." Her eyes flashed at him for a second, and then she went on. "I fear, however, that to watch three hobbits who are determined to disappear is beyond me! It may be that it is beyond the power of any elf!" He stared at her for a moment, taken aback by the glint of a temper she had managed to keep under control since early adulthood, and then smiled.

"Perhaps you are right," he said gently. "I have rarely met more enterprising beings." She lowered her head again. "Go on, dear one," he told her. "Find Legolas. He has tidings for you." She curtseyed and went back to her rooms, anger vying with curiosity.

Legolas was staring out the window. Athelas could feel his eagerness, his determination. It radiated from him. She crossed to him instantly.

"What is it?" she asked, laying a hand on his arm. "What has been decided?"

His eyes bright with eagerness, he smiled at her. "It has been agreed. It is to be destroyed!"

"Destroyed!" she echoed, hope fighting terror in her voice. "But how?"

"Secretly," he told her, and then noticed that she had begun to tremble. "Athelas, I must tell you, I have volunteered to go." She turned her head, unable to look at him, fighting for control of herself.

"Beloved," he began, tilting her head gently so she faced him. He was startled to see tears filling her eyes.

"Don't," he whispered, pulling her into his embrace. She went willingly, wrapping her arms about his neck. "It will be well. Don't fear for me."

She looked up at him. "These tears are not for fear or sorrow, Legolas. I weep from joy and pride in you." He crushed her to him, kissing her hair. When her tears had stopped, he wiped her face gently with the corner of his robe, and led her to her divan, where she reclined. He poured wine for them both, and sat beside her in his chair. She reached out and held his hand with one of hers, while sipping at the wine until she felt it relax her.

"Now," she said, taking a deep breath, "tell me everything."

He outlined the council for her, including his own impulsive behaviour in revealing Aragorn's identity to Boromir. Athelas felt Legolas' indignation at the man from Gondor's biting words. He told of Gimli's insults, his own loss of temper and then Frodo's quiet courage. Faced with that, with Aragorn's instant pledge to support Frodo, Legolas had immediately joined what Elrond had called the Fellowship. As he told his tale, Athelas gazed at him with such love and respect that he had to look away. Finally he told her of Sam and the other hobbits surprising them and demanding to go with Frodo. He looked at her quizzically. "I had thought they were to stay with you."

She gave him a quick smile. "As they are now to be your companions, my love, be advised by me in this. A hobbit set on becoming invisible is no match for an elf."

He laughed and looked at her, then his eyes changed from delight to concern. "It will be a dangerous road, Athelas, I will not attempt to deceive you."

"And I shall be here at the end of it," she said quietly. "Waiting with Arwen." She looked at him again, with all her heart in her eyes, and then continued.

"My love, you are an elven warrior, fearless and bold! You have no equal with bow or knife. You are steadfast and true to the end. You can brighten the darkest night with a glad song or well-told tale. No, I have no fears that you will not return. The others will be glad of your company and your skills."

"The dwarf won't," he said simply.

She caressed his hand tenderly. "Perhaps that may change."

He snorted with laughter at that. "I may safely assure you, beloved, that the dwarf and I will never agree on anything."

"Be that as it may, you have a long journey ahead, my love, and there is much to prepare."

She made to get up from her seat, but to her surprise, he pulled her down into his lap and enfolded her in his arms. Breathing deeply into her hair, he whispered, "Let it wait."

Merry and Pippin were beside themselves with excitement when Athelas found them that evening.

"We are sorry about this morning, my Lady," Merry told her, glee written all over his small face. "But we knew something was going on."

"We did tell Lord Elrond it wasn't your fault," Pippin put in helpfully.

"And I thank you for that, Master Pippin!" she said lightheartedly. "I must tell you that I did not realize hobbits possessed the ability to vanish."

"We don't, really," Merry told her. "We're just good at being unobtrusive."

"Very unobtrusive," she agreed sardonically.

"And Boromir came to talk to us. He has decided to teach us to fight with swords." Pippin said happily. "That will be something! To think that we shall be warriors!"

"Does Legolas carry an elven sword?" Merry asked, thoughtfully. "Bilbo had one. He called it Sting. He said it was charmed. It would be a comfort to have such a sword along."

"Alas," Athelas told them, with mock sorrow, "my lord Legolas carries no sword at all! But his skill with the bow may surprise you. I do not believe there is a better archer in all of Middle-Earth."

Legolas had gone with Sam to see Frodo settled into bed. Sam had recounted all of Legolas' kindnesses to Frodo yet again, until Legolas held up his hand to stop him.

"You will turn my head with flattery," he said gently. Sam blushed at that, and Legolas, seeing his friends comfortable, laughed softly and wished them good night.

He made his way to the great hall. It was deserted, and he spent some time gazing into the fire, alone with his thoughts. Only his elven ears allowed him to hear Elrond coming into the room. He looked up, the firelight reflecting in his light eyes.

"Legolas, I had wanted a few quiet words with you. Would now be acceptable?" Elrond said quietly.

"Of course," Legolas replied, motioning to the chair beside him. Elrond sat and arranged his robes comfortably. Legolas had already changed into tunic and trousers, Elrond noticed, as if he could not wait to be away.

"I have arranged for couriers to be sent in the morning. One, of course, will be to Thranduil. If you have any private message to send him, please have it ready."

Legolas nodded. "You need have no worries on that count, my Lord Elrond. Father understands the situation, and has charged me to give whatever aid I can. I know that Father can be, well, abrupt at times." He grinned wickedly at the older elf, both knowing what "abrupt" could encompass when Thranduil was involved. Elrond found himself smiling back. He was very fond of this young elf.

"Gandalf and Aragorn are both pleased to have you in the fellowship. You have ever been faithful to whatever task you set yourself." He saw the slight trace of colour in Legolas' cheek, his reaction to this praise. "I am glad also," he said simply.

"My lord, I could do nothing else," Legolas replied, grateful for the Elf Lord's approval.

"You will, of course, be travelling with the dwarf," Elrond continued, seeing Legolas' looks darken. "Will that be a hardship for you?"

"It will try my patience, I fear. But that is nothing."

"You may find more in common with Gimli than you think possible." Elrond said gently. Legolas made a small scoffing sound.

"My last concern, Legolas, is your wife." Elrond saw the look of surprise on Legolas' face. "By rights she should return to the Mirkwood."

Legolas let out a laugh that rang through the empty hall. "You will not be able to shift her, my lord Elrond! She has informed me that she will remain here with Arwen until I return. However long it takes."

Elrond looked at the young elf with sadness. "It is of Arwen I would speak now. I would have her leave Imladris, to go to Valinor. I would have her leave everything here. You understand me, I think."

Legolas stared at him in shock. "That choice is hers, my lord."

Elrond held up a hand to stop his protests. "What I need to know, Legolas, is what to do with Athelas in your absence. If Arwen leaves, do I send Athelas to your father or keep her with me? If all fails, and we must flee these shores, shall I take her to Valinor?"

Legolas was stunned as the implications of Elrond's words registered in his mind. Did Elrond think that there was no chance of success?

"Our time is ending, Legolas. I must plan for every contingency. And so I ask again, what are your wishes regarding your wife?"

Legolas licked lips suddenly dry. "Athelas will stay with Arwen as long as possible. If Arwen decides to leave, if she will take the ship, send word to my father. He will arrange for Athelas' safety on her journey to the Mirkwood. And if all fails, take her to the west." He looked at Elrond, the fear on his face replaced by determination. "I will do all I can to see that we do not fail!"

They sat in silence for a moment, Legolas wisely keeping his opinions of Arwen willingly leaving Aragorn to himself. Elrond stood and looked at the fire for a moment more.

"You will speak to Athelas of this?" he asked quietly.

"She shall know my mind on it," Legolas replied.

Returning to his room, he found Athelas, busy with a whetstone and what appeared to be one of his knives. He looked at her, puzzled for a moment. She noticed him and stood up quickly, placing the stone down carefully. Retrieving his other knife from beside her chair, she laid them both across her arm and knelt before him, head bowed.

"Your blades are sharp, your arrows new fletched. May they take you to glory," she told him formally, offering up the knives to him. It was an ancient gesture, and it touched him. He accepted them, searching for words. He could find none. Gently putting the knives down, he raised her and held his hand over his heart. Tears glittered in her black eyes as she regarded him for a long moment. Then she reached up and kissed him softly. He tenderly held her face in his hands for a long moment, and then returned her kisses with all the hunger in him.

Neither slept. Legolas had informed her of his conversation with Elrond and outlined the retreats he had agreed upon. Athelas grudgingly acceded to it, but only if Arwen were compelled or coerced to leave Middle-Earth. For Athelas would not believe for an instant that Arwen would go of her own volition.

"It is preposterous!" she hissed at him, as he asked her once again to keep her voice low. "Arwen would no more leave Aragorn, than I would leave you! He has her heart, her soul, all of her. I cannot believe Elrond would ask it of her."

"He is her father," Legolas told her wearily. It had been a long day, with no rest in sight. He was trying to draw up his message to his father. Athelas could not sit down for more than a moment, before indignantly rising again to pace the room.

"She is her own, though." She waved her hands about, her frustration evident.

"Please, Athelas, just calm down and write to Father. Only a little note, saying how happy you will be to return to the Mirkwood when all is finished."

Something in his voice reached her, and she sat, tapping her pen on the paper before her. Her eyes flashed darkly at him. "I'd rather take Arwen with me to Mirkwood. She'd not be pressured into leaving there!"

Legolas sighed. "It will be well, Athelas. I have no fears that Arwen will leave Aragorn. It is as if her roots are all fixed in him. To pull them out would wound her too deeply. I think as you do in this."

"Then you shall find me here, at the end. With my Lady. If," she started, dipping her pen into the ink, "the unthinkable happen, and she is forced to leave, I will go to your father happily." She wrote quickly, a small smile about her lips. When she finished, she looked at her husband's somewhat longer missive. Leaving him to his composition, she busied herself with looking over his gear yet again, racking her brain for anything she might have missed or forgotten to pack for him. A thought came to her, and she froze.

When he finished his letter, she turned to him, a questioning look on her face.

"Aragorn!" she said, "Does he know of Elrond's plans for Arwen?"

"I do not know. I do not think Elrond would have discussed it with me at all, except that it concerned you." His eyes widened and he sucked in his breath. "Do you think he would?"

"He might. And Aragorn might think it wise. Whatever happens, Legolas, you must not let him doubt her love for him. Watch over him and bring him back to her. She will wait. I am sure of that."

"There is nothing I would rather do for him." Legolas said warmly. He pulled Athelas into an embrace and she gently stroked his chest.

"I have no talisman for you to take into battle, my love. Aragorn carries the Evenstar, but I have nothing suitable for such a warrior as you."

He smiled at her. "I have a token of you. I carry it always. Here," he said, tapping his chest. "I take it out whenever I have need."

She looked at him questioningly. He laughed at her confusion. "It is a song you gave me, on a night long ago. I have listened to it many times since. I regret that I have no parting gift for you, beloved."

"I need none, for I am never wholly parted from you." She looked away for a moment, with something like regret in her face and posture.

"What is it, Athelas?" he asked, his voice tender. "What troubles you?"

"It is nothing. Just a momentary thought."

"Tell me," he urged gently.

"I fear the loss of all that we have known here," she said softly. He saw the shadow of the nameless fear they all carried in her face. "Everything will change."

He gathered her to him, seeking comfort as well as giving it.

"Some things will not change," he whispered softly.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

There was a hush over Rivendell, as if the very earth knew of the task that was to begin that day. The sun had not yet risen, but for some of the members of the newly forged Fellowship there had been little sleep.

Sam had gone over his packs and provisions again and again, sure that something was escaping his notice. Frodo had returned from his meeting with Bilbo, quiet and uncommunicative. Sam's attempts at conversation had met with brief answers or noncommittal grunts. Knowing Frodo's temperament, Sam left his master to rest, wishing him a good night, and gone back to the arrangement of the baggage, the one thing still in his control. While the quest might be beyond his means to complete, his care of Frodo was not.

Hearing Sam leave, Frodo sighed and rolled over to face the wall. Unbidden, Frodo saw Bilbo's tired and aged face before him. Heard again Bilbo's sorrow that this task had come to Frodo. Felt all the pride Bilbo had shown in him. And then the memory of the horrifying change that had come over Bilbo at his glimpse of the ring! The magnitude of this decision weighed him down more than the ring. To him had come this task and he felt his unfitness for the duty fully. He was unsure that he would be able to resist the lure of the ring. He worried that the brave warriors who had volunteered to accompany him would throw their lives away on false hopes. His cousins and his beloved Sam would be killed on his behalf. He turned intermittently, searching for rest that would not come.

Pippin and Merry had spoken long into the night, delighted to be involved, happy to be adventuring with such a company. Although it was love for Frodo that had compelled them, both felt excitement at the importance of this journey. Dismissing the hardships facing them, they agreed that to be travelling across the lands in such good company seemed like the best of times. Finally sleep claimed them, their dreams full of glorious escapades.

For Gimli, it had been an evening of good wishes and farewells with his countrymen. He had no fear of the undertaking before him, only pleasure that he, Gimli, was to be the representative of the dwarves, for so he saw it. A warrior's heart beat within his breast, and he relished the challenge before him. After the last toasts had been given, he made his way to his bed and slept soundly, not a doubt in his mind to keep him awake.

It was not an easy night for the Man of Gondor. Boromir slept lightly, disturbed and woken by the slightest noise. He was uneasy with the idea of destroying the ring, for it seemed wiser to him to use it against the enemy. He had pledged his life to this quest, but a small part of him nagged and teased that the decision was the wrong one. Troubled by nightmares, awakened yet again by the soft tread of footsteps outside his window, he rose and dressed, then sat waiting in the darkness for the rising sun.

Elrond and Gandalf took counsel of each other, and when all was said, Gandalf, like the old campaigner he was, took to his bed. His part in these events was beginning to be clear to him, and no amount of worry or planning would change that. Resting easily, he soon fell into a deep sleep.

Elrond slept not at all. He had spoken to Aragorn and all that was left to him was to wait. He could not look on what he had done as a betrayal. He was fighting for his daughter, for her happiness. He knew, where she could not comprehend, the pain of what she wanted, the horror of her death. And he would continue to fight for her life.

Legolas and Athelas spent the night in quiet talk. Neither brought up the possibility that Legolas might not return. They made plans for an uncertain future, certain only in their love for one another. Their farewells took place in the privacy of their rooms, neither wishing to break down in front of the rest of the company. Legolas, a grave look on his face, held her closely and finally whispered the words she had been dreading.

"If I should fall," he began, but she shushed him with a gentle hand to his lips.

"You will not fall," she told him.

He took her hand and kissed the inside of her wrist. "I may fall. You must face that. And if I do, if all should be in vain, I will have your promise that you will take the ship." There was an intensity in his eyes that was painful to her.

"If you should fall, my love, I will find you in the Halls of Mandos." Her face was set, her determination evident in her posture. "My grief would be great, but I would stay and comfort you father as best I could. When he no longer needed me, I would return to you with joy."

"What about Arwen?" he asked her, uncomfortably aware that she meant every word. "You once vowed to stay with her throughout her sojourn among men. Will you not stay for her?"

"I will stay with her until your return. I won't abandon her. Just make sure Aragorn keeps faith with her!" She reached up to stroke his cheek.

"And if Arwen leaves?" he asked.

She snorted. "If that impossibility comes to pass, I will go to your father. But I will not go into the West without you. Do not ask me to promise." He held her close again, memorizing every exquisite detail of the moment. She surrendered to his embrace, holding his love close in her heart.

"My heart shall not sing until I am with you again," he told her.

"Clear water and green leaves in your journey," she replied quietly.

He kissed her once, then once again, and broke away from the embrace. She helped him gather his kit, strapping on his knives, his quiver. He faced her once again.

"I love you," he said. There was no need for anything else.

"As I love you," she replied.

Then, with a last aching look, he left. She heard him head for the stables, to calm himself with the horses before the departure. Sitting down, she held her head in her hands, breathing deeply to find peace, searching desperately for strength.

Legolas passed Aragorn without a word, his jaw set with the fears he would not allow himself to show before Athelas. Aragorn watched him go silently. The Ranger was half hoping that he would not see Arwen before the time of departure, yet knowing that he had to. And then, as he turned, she was before him, her wondrous eyes bright.

He heard himself speak the words, make the gestures. Felt her heart break within her. Ignoring his own pain, he finished his carefully rehearsed speech to her. She was angry. She did not believe him. He saw it in her eyes, heard it in her voice. Refusing the return of the Evenstar, she turned and fled from him. Aragorn buried his heart within him and turned back to the gathering of the companions.

Athelas saw Arwen rush by her room and was instantly on her feet, running after Elrond's daughter. She caught up with her and wrapped her arms around her weeping friend. Arwen sobbed out her tale in tears of anger, heartbreak and disbelief. Athelas felt herself go very still. The only consolation she could find was that Arwen did not believe a word of what Aragorn had told her. She spoke gentle words of comfort, agreeing with Arwen that Aragorn was only trying to protect her. When Arwen's tears finally stopped, Athelas left her, assuring her she would return shortly. Shutting the door quietly behind her, she ran through Rivendell as she had not done since she was a child. She had to find Legolas!

The hobbits were finishing breakfast. Not even the start of a great campaign could stop their last meal in Imladris. Aragorn had sent Legolas, the elf's face now as composed and serene as ever, to hurry them along. Legolas had complied, and was now gently urging them to wind up their repast.

Athelas found him there, and called from the doorway to him, her voice ringing, her Sindarin crisp. "Legolas, I need you!"

He looked up, startled. He could see the rage and sorrow mingled in her eyes. He sprang from his seat and rushed to her. She pulled him into an empty room, and rapidly told him what had happened. Her face was flushed with emotion, and her hands waved briskly in the air before him, sketching what her voice described.

He was shocked, but not angry. He understood Elrond's reasoning, although he did not agree with it. Speaking softly and swiftly, he calmed her, and tried to reassure her about Aragorn.

"Don't let him do this!" she said, her voice vibrating with the rage she felt. "He must return to her. Her grief will be her death if he does not! We can't let that happen to her!"

"Comfort her as best you can." Legolas looked over her shoulder, his mind returning to a time when Aragorn had said words very similar to him. "Whatever I can do, I will."

"Please, Legolas! Aragorn loves her, I know it. I know Elrond is terrified, I can feel it. We all are! But they must be allowed to decide for themselves! I charge you, protect him, keep him safe, and bring him home again!"

"Then, beloved, I charge you as well. Care for her. Lend her your strength. Do not let her give in to sorrow. I will see you when we leave." He gave her one more lingering kiss, and then she hurried from him, rushing back to Arwen. He sighed and left the small room. He returned to the hobbits, ignoring the questioning looks they gave him.

"If you are finished," he began politely, "I believe it is time to go." The hobbits looked at one another and stood and followed him out of the dining hall.

Athelas and Arwen, the latter's face still tear stained, met the others in the courtyard by the gate. The Fellowship was gathering. Sam was with the pony, checking the packs. Merry and Pippin thanked Arwen for her hospitality, tactfully not asking the cause of her evident distress. She nodded at them, still not trusting her voice. Athelas led them away, allowing Arwen a few more moments to compose herself.

"Is she well?" Merry asked, concern in his voice. Athelas nodded.

"Farewells to friends are hard at times," she said simply. "And I bid you both good journey. I thank you for your cheerful tunes and happy company. It has been my great pleasure to meet you both."

"Will you look out for Bilbo?" Pippin asked her, looking over at the old hobbit. "He's not as spry as he used to be."

"He will be well taken care of, I assure you, Master Took." She smiled gently at him. "I shall await your return, eager to hear your new tales and songs."

Gimli joined them, ready to be off. He had decided to speak to Athelas instead of Arwen, the Lady's sorrow unsettling to him. Beneath his gruff exterior beat not only the heart of a warrior, but of a true gallant as well. That there was nothing he could do to relieve Arwen's distress was uncomfortable to him.

"I ask you to give my thanks to Lady Arwen. I have been honoured by my stay in her house," he told Athelas. "And I thank you for your hospitality, my lady. You have made my visit most comfortable."

"I must thank you, Master Gimli. Your conversation has been most stimulating, and I have enjoyed our time together." She inclined her head toward him. "I look forward to the pleasure of your company again, when the task is completed."

Gimli chuckled at that, smiling up at her through his red beard. "Confident, aren't you?" he asked.

"In your prowess, Master Gimli, most definitely," she laughed. She felt, rather than heard Legolas come up behind her. She turned to face him, her eyes bright.

"I have just spoken to Arwen," he said, quietly. "To thank her for her kindness. I believe that she would be grateful for your presence."

"I thank you, my lord," she replied, "I shall attend her at once. I shall not forget your charges to me." She bowed her head to him, and he placed a hand over his heart, greeting and farewell.

"It will be well, Athelas," he told her, slipping into Sindarin. "I will return with Aragorn, beloved. Have no fears."

"I shall look for your coming with joy, Legolas. In the meanwhile, I shall wait with Arwen. Safe in your love, there is nothing to fear." She made a quick farewell to the others, and strode back to Arwen, head held high.

Elrond set them on their way at last. With his last blessings in their ears, the Fellowship left Imladris. Legolas looked back once to see Athelas, standing behind Arwen, her eyes blazing with pride and love for him. Arwen watched Aragorn go, refusing to let him see her hurt. Once he was gone, she turned to Athelas and said quietly, "Come with me."

Athelas followed Arwen to her rooms. Once the door had been silently closed, Arwen let loose her grief and anger. Athelas soothed her as much as possible as Arwen alternately wept and raged. After hours of torment, Arwen had spent her fury and was grateful to be cosseted by her friend. Athelas sat by her until Arwen, her body and spirit worn out by the day's events, slipped easily into sleep.

Athelas stormed to her rooms, her anger at her friend's anguish overpowering her. How dare Elrond interfere in this manner? For an instant she thought of confronting him, the memory of Arwen's tears overcoming not only her deep love for Elrond but all her insecurities as well. Her better judgement returned and she continued to the suite she and Legolas had occupied. She needed to be alone, to calm the tempest in her heart. She did allow herself to slam the door behind her as she entered. She looked at the rumpled bed, the scattered tea things, the cast aside clothing. With her rage white hot, she began to clean the rooms, trying to scrub away the feelings within her. Finding Legolas' discarded tunic from the day before, she flung it to the chair.

Once the rooms were spotless, she looked for something else. Needlework would not help her now. She needed something active. Her gaze falling on the tunic, her eyes narrowed and she reached for it. Changing quickly to her travelling clothes, wearing the soft tunic next to her skin, she left the house and began to run. She circled Imladris until the hot pain in her chest eased.

.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Five days out of Rivendell the Fellowship seemed to be settling into a routine. They woke, ate quickly and sparingly, broke camp and walked. In the evenings, Boromir, with Aragorn's help, taught Merry and Pippin the proper use of a sword. Sam attended to the domestic chores assisted, to his surprise, by Legolas. Sam found that the elf enjoyed cooking and was grateful for the company. It also kept the elf a comfortable distance from Gimli. Gimli was content to smoke a comfortable pipe with Gandalf and discuss directions and paths. Frodo seemed to be keeping to himself more often than not.

Sam was worried about his master. The usually cheerful hobbit appeared to be preoccupied. He spoke little and rarely joined in the tale telling or quiet singing of the others. He walked almost mechanically, a far away look in his brilliant blue eyes. Sam watched him quietly, attentive to Frodo's every need.

Legolas watched his hobbit friend with affection. Sam anticipated what Frodo would require, often had it to hand before his master spoke a word. His loyalty to Frodo was total. Even when Frodo, vexed by the attention, shooed him away, Sam lingered near, ever willing to help.

As they prepared to make camp for the night, Legolas looked at Aragorn. His attempts to speak to the Ranger about Arwen has not been successful. Aragorn quickly cut him off, changing the subject to the best routes to take or the needs of the Fellowship. He was willing to discuss the training of Merry and Pippin, the placement of the camp or the weather of the coming day. But on the subject of Arwen he was mute. Legolas tried to hide his frustration, worried that this one subject might become a wedge in their friendship. But Arwen's life, weighed against Aragorn's pride, was most important. Sighing, he mentally prepared himself to be rebuffed once again when Sam's voice broke into his thoughts.

"I'd like to make a stew with fresh meat," he said to the elf. "Would it be too much to ask you to hunt down some coneys? I think, once we leave the forests, there may not be much chance for game."

Legolas smiled at that and stood, eager to do a little hunting, grateful for the distraction. However, Gimli had overheard Sam.

"Rabbits, is it?" he asked, approaching them. "I can have you a brace in a few moments, Sam. Rest yourself, Master Elf."

Legolas' eyes blazed at Gimli. It was the dwarf's assumption that he could do everything better than anyone else that irritated him more than anything. "You are telling me to rest? You require it more than I do."

Gimli's eyebrows shot into his hairline. The elf was too aloof, to proud to associate with the company, he felt. Speaking very little, always looking superior. "I need no rest, elf! Dwarves are renowned for their endurance!" He winked at Sam. "Very sturdy, I assure you."

Aragorn noticed the commotion, Sam caught in the middle of what seemed to be yet another argument between dwarf and elf. He came over to them.

"What is it?" he asked Sam.

"I just wanted a few rabbits, Strider." Sam said simply. He motioned to the heated debate now raging in front of him. "I didn't mean for this to happen."

Aragorn sighed. Looking around quickly he saw that Gandalf was leaning against a tree, apparently asleep, although the pipe in his hand still smoked.

Stepping between the fighting pair, he held up his hands. "Fine!" he snapped. "Legolas, you go that way." He pointed in one direction. "Gimli, you go over there." He pointed the opposite way. Shaking his head at them, he watched them glare at each other and leave in the directions he had indicated.

Legolas fumed all the way into the brush. He thought up a hundred new insults for the dwarf before he calmed down enough to start to look for game. It was ridiculous to allow himself to get so angry. Now he realized it was the rock cutter's habit of treating him as if he were the same age as the young hobbits that infuriated him. Shaking his head, he returned to the business of hunting. With his silent elf gait, he quickly covered the ground, listening for the sounds that would tell him where his quarry waited. He waited, catlike, and soon his patience was rewarded. Fitting arrow to bowstring, he quickly brought down the first rabbit. Not moving, he waited again, and when the second creature came to investigate the fate of its companion, he had his second. Retrieving them quickly, he headed back to camp. He did not realize how deeply into the woods he had gone during his fit of pique.

When he emerged from the thickets into the camp, he was horrified to find the dwarf, sitting on a fallen log, smoking that infernal pipe, telling Sam the easiest way to butcher the animals that he was cleaning. And there were three rabbits in front of Sam!

Aragorn turned away that Legolas might not see him laugh. The look on the elf's face was one of complete astonishment. Merry and Pippin grinned at each other, and went back to the sword drills Boromir was demonstrating.

"Ah, young Legolas! Successful, were you?" Gimli asked agreeably. "Two coneys, that's impressive."

Legolas continued to gape at the dwarf. He realized that Frodo had the first genuine smile he'd had for days, and that Aragorn's shoulders were shaking with laughter.

"How," he started, then stopped. He looked at the rabbits again, and back to the smiling dwarf. "You can't hunt rabbit with an axe!" he exclaimed.

Gimli slowly took another draw at his pipe, and then exhaled. His eyes sparkled with laughter.

"You can if you throw them, lad," he said, patting the small axe at his belt. Legolas stared at him. "Nothing simpler." Gimli went on. "Flush them out and then whack 'em. I've been doing it since I was a child." Aragorn and Frodo could no longer contain their amusement and laughed out loud. Even Gandalf, awake now, joined in. Only Sam was able to check himself, and he looked sympathetically at Legolas, the barest hint of a smile on his broad face.

"You can bring down a rabbit at a run with an axe?" Legolas asked, startled into speech.

"Of course," Gimli said simply. "You can bring down one with an arrow, can you not?"

"But, I didn't think that was possible."

"Anything is possible, with practice," Gimli shrugged. Then he went back to smoking his pipe, his evident delight visible on his face.

Legolas dropped the rabbits still in his hand into the pile before Sam, and went to get the pots from the pony. "Dwarves," he muttered to himself, ignoring Aragorn completely.

Arwen was not eating or resting enough, and Athelas was worried. Her friend swung between a manic belief that Aragorn would return to her and a devastating conviction that he had meant every word he'd said. She had tried everything to cajole her friend back into some type of normalcy, but Arwen's behaviour continued to shift between happiness and the greatest sorrow. No amount of good-humoured chatter, sympathetic listening, or walks through the garden seemed to work.

She changed into her travel clothes again early one morning. Slipping her daggers into their sheathes, she strapped on her quiver and picked up her bow. Although she was no warrior, every elf could defend their own person. But today, defense was not on her mind.

Making her way to Arwen's rooms, she lightly tapped on the door. Arwen did not answer, and she tapped again. Sighing, she leaned forward and spoke firmly.

"Arwen? I know you're there. I will stay here and knock until you answer me. Arwen?" She tapped again.

Arwen opened the door slowly and looked at her friend. The dark circles around her eyes and her unkempt hair showed she'd spent another night crying. She leaned against the doorjamb and looked down at her friend with an apathetic face.

"Let me be," she said softly. "I'm just going to sleep today."

"No, you're not. You're going to stare out the window and feel sorry for yourself. I know you, Arwen."

Arwen sighed and opened the door enough to admit the other elf. Then she shut it firmly. With lethargic steps, she made her way back to her seat and stretched out on it. Pushing her tangled hair back from her face, she looked at Athelas.

"What do you want?" she asked, turning her head back to the window. The breeze rustled the leaves outside, a melancholy sound to her.

"I want you to come with me today. I need to visit a place, and I would rather not go alone."

Arwen looked at her friend with jaded eyes. "Formidable weaponry. Are we under attack? Are you running home?"

Athelas sighed and looked at her. "Right now, home is with you. I thought I might do a bit of hunting on the way back from my errand." She went to her friend and knelt down in front of her, taking her hands. Arwen stared at her for a moment, then pulled her hands away. Athelas took them again.

"This has to stop, Arwen. Two days ago you were beyond happiness, knowing that he would return. Today you are crushed. I cannot watch you suffer this way. Come with me today, get out of this house, feel the forest again. I beg you."

Arwen looked at the comrade of her childhood, a glimmer of interest in her light eyes. "Where are you going?" she asked.

"You will recognize it when you see it," Athelas told her cryptically.

Intrigued by this, Arwen allowed herself to be coaxed into getting dressed. Athelas braided up the ebony locks of her friend's hair, and together they slipped into the woods around the Last Homely House.

Arwen brightened a bit as she recognized the unseen path Athelas was leading her down. "I know where we're going now," she said, memories engulfing her.

"I thought you might," Athelas laughed back at her. Arwen's steps quickened and soon both elves were running through the trees, chasing each other in a game invented in childhood. When they reached the stream, Arwen giggled and rushed up into a huge tree. Athelas stood beneath it and stretched her arms to the sky. She looked to see Arwen in the top branches, swaying them, knocking the last of the dried leaves to the ground.

"Oh, no you don't!" Athelas called, unstrapping her quiver, placing it and her bow to the side and clambering up into what had been "her" tree as a child. "I can still go faster!"

They scampered in the branches like squirrels. Arwen leapt into her friend's tree and they played like the girls they had once been.

Finally dropping from the branches, Athelas scooped clear water from the stream into her hands and drank deeply. Arwen perched on a low branch and laughed at her.

"I can still outlast you!" she taunted. "Mirkwood has made you soft!"

"Can you now?" Athelas retorted, as she turned and splashed water up at Arwen. A few drops fell on the tips of Arwen's boots, and she jumped down and waded into the stream. The water flew in droplets while they continued to splash and giggle.

Finally both fell, laughing, into the brown and withered grass. They were sopping, with mud smearing boots, hands and hair. Arwen opened her brilliant blue eyes to the sun and gazed at the clouds. Her heart felt light again. She rolled over and looked at her friend, cupping her chin in her hands, elbows digging into the autumn mud.

"You were right, Athelas. We needed this." She looked about her again. "We haven't been here in years. Why did we stop coming?"

Athelas pulled herself up and sat cross legged in the weeds. She gazed into the distance for a few moments, then turned her black eyes to Arwen. She shrugged. "We grew up, I guess."

"When did it all get so complicated?" Arwen complained. "Only a few days ago I knew my path and was content. Now...," she broke off, picking at a blade of grass in front of her.

"Arwen, I love you," Athelas said simply. "All my life you have always been there for me. I am here for you now. And I must tell you, you have to make up your mind."

Arwen started at that and raised her face to her friend. "It's not that simple," she told her.

"Yes, it is," Athelas insisted. "All you have to do is choose. Will he return or won't he? And then stick to that."

"What if I choose wrong?" Arwen said, her gaze dropping back to the ground.

"Your heart will tell you. Now, are you going to believe that Aragorn meant what he said, or are you going to trust in his love?"

"When you say it like that, there is not much of a choice." Arwen protested.

"I'm making it easy for you." Athelas replied, with a wry grin.

"Then I choose to believe he will return." Arwen told her, hope returning to her eyes.

"Good! Now let me show you how soft we are in Mirkwood." Athelas jumped back on her feet and swung herself back up into the trees.

They returned to the House well after nightfall, Athelas shouldering the deer she had brought down. Elrond was waiting for them with anger written in every line of his face. Handing the deer over to be taken to the kitchens, Arwen and Athelas stood before him, damp, muddy, with bits of twigs and dried leaves stuck in their tousled hair and clothing. Their eyes were bright, and they looked at him steadily, willing to endure his displeasure for the sake of the fun they had had.

"Where have you been?" Elrond asked, his voice soft, his eyes snapping. "You left no word with anyone!"

"Father," Arwen began, "we went hunting. We are not children." Athelas fought back a grin. For adults, they had spent a fair bit of the day in play.

Elrond shook his head at her. "In these times, Arwen, it is dangerous . . . "

"We were armed, Father," she interrupted him, twisting her leg to show him the dagger in her boot. "And despite conditions in the world, Imladris is still safe."

His brows dropped, signalling his disapproval. To his consternation, both of the young elves began giggling.

"Please, forgive Arwen, Lord Elrond," Athelas said, forcing the words out, trying to calm her laughter. "I'm afraid it was entirely my fault."

"You always say that, Athelas, and it is always Arwen's doing." Elrond told her sternly. "As you point out, you are both grown, both Ladies of Elven realms..."

"But this time it really is her fault!" Arwen burst out, unable to hold in her mirth any longer.

"Really it is." Athelas joined her. Elrond regarded the pair before him with an unreadable look in his dark eyes. They continued to laugh, holding on to each other for support. He raised one eyebrow, and they began to laugh even harder.

"Your pardon, my lord." Athelas finally choked out, wiping her eyes. "I have behaved most inappropriately, and I fear I have caught Arwen up in my lapse. Please forgive us. My behaviour has reflected badly on both your upbringing and the dignity of the Mirkwood." Arwen stifled a loud guffaw. She looked at him with the same expression he remembered on the face of the young elleth she had been. He sighed.

"Go and clean yourselves up and be made presentable," he said, shaking his head. "And next time please leave word of your whereabouts."

He walked away from them, and heard fresh laughter. Knowing they could not see his face, he smiled broadly.

"Why did you have to say that about his eyebrows?" Arwen scolded Athelas as they made their way to their rooms. "I think we could have pulled it off if it wasn't for that."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

_A/N: Lyrics are from "If I Could Be Where You Are" by Enya. I can't write my own lyrics._

Arwen stormed into Athelas' rooms. Her friend was stretched out on the divan, a hand over her eyes. Arwen stopped and looked at her.

"Are you well, Athelas?" she asked. The anger on her face turned to concern in an instant.

"Arwen, I am composing bad poetry. It does not go well, as I cannot find a rhyme for alabaster, except mustard plaster and I do not think that fits." Athelas told her, sitting up. "Would you care for tea or wine?"

"Tea would be nice," Arwen agreed, sitting in the comfortable chair. Athelas put the kettle on the brazier and got the tea tray ready.

"What about pilaster or disaster?" she asked Athelas, as her friend brought the tray.

"Neither has quite the right connotation," Athelas laughed, "and I was trying to describe your father's forehead."

Arwen regarded her slyly and laughed. "I am sure you were!" she told her companion. Her face brightened and she sipped contentedly at her tea for a few moments. They sat in silence until Arwen sighed and put her delicate cup down on the table.

Athelas contemplated her with understanding in her dark eyes. "It is hard to sit and wait. I feel so constrained sometimes that I must run through Imladris. Your father understands, but he's taken to looking at me in the oddest way."

Arwen giggled. "He knows you're wearing Legolas' tunic under your clothes," she said.

One of Athelas' eyebrows arched even higher. "And how does he know that?" she asked.

"Father has very sharp eyes." Arwen replied innocently. "I didn't realize it was a secret."

Athelas sighed. "Nothing is secret in Rivendell. How shall we spend our day, my Lady?" she asked. "I have seen to the linens, the kitchen is in good order, and all seems well." She shook her head. "Except in my heart. I fear today is the day that Legolas will forget himself and loose several arrows into Master Gimli."

"Athelas!" Arwen stated, shocked. "Legolas knows how to behave!"

"Well, of course he does!" Athelas shot back.

"Aragorn is with them. Gandalf will not allow anything like that to happen." Arwen told her quietly. "And you are not the only one to wait. You, at least, have the knowledge that Legolas will come home to you."

"Aragorn will return, Arwen. Forgive me." Athelas told her, instantly contrite. She looked at her friend with sad eyes. "It seems I can find no enjoyment in anything today. Hence the bad poetry."

Arwen reached over and held her friend's hand tightly. "Why don't you sing something for me?" she asked. "I am out of sorts myself, and it might do me some good. That always makes you feel better," she continued, in a teasing voice.

"As my Lady requests," Athelas said with mock formality. Stepping gently to the harp that had been moved into the room for her, she sat down and sighed. She thought for a moment and then, placing her fingers delicately on the strings, began to sing.

"_Where are you this moment?_

_Only in my dreams_

_You're missing, but you're always_

_A heartbeat from me_

_Winter lies before me_

_Now you're so far away_

_In the darkness of my dreaming_

_The light on you will stay"_

Arwen looked at her sternly. "I meant something cheerful, Athelas!" She sighed and shook her head at her friend. "Obviously we need to do something else."

Athelas stood up from the harp and came back to her companion. "I am sorry, Arwen. What they are doing is so important, how can I feel discontented? I am ashamed of myself. When he left I promised myself that I would not dwell on his absence, that I would be patient. But today it just seems too hard."

Arwen looked at her with understanding. "It is not our path to walk with them, although we both would, willingly. We must do what we can, cheerfully, and keep hope alive."

"Hope I have, in abundance." Athelas replied. "What I do not have is something to do cheerfully." She arched one black brow at Arwen. "Can you imagine your father's face if I told him I wanted to go out and hunt orc? There being no spiders of any consequence in Imladris, of course."

The corners of Arwen's lips twitched. In a moment both were holding on to each other and laughing. Arwen, holding her breath for an instant, gave such a good impression of the stately Elf Lord in high indignation, that Athelas had to hold her sides.

Finally, wiping tears from her eyes, refreshed by the laughter that eases the soul, Athelas' eye fell on a pile of fabric sitting on a table, out of the way.

"What is all that?" Arwen asked, smoothing her hair.

"I found it while sorting out the linens." Her eyes narrowed as she gazed at the pile. "There is a green, just the shade of new leaves budding," she began, crossing to the table and flipping through the material. She pulled out a bolt and held it up to Arwen's face.

"Perfect," she murmured.

Arwen held up her hands in protest. "The last thing I need is another gown, Athelas."

Athelas pulled Arwen to her feet and began draping the cloth on her. She looked up with eyes full of pleading and mischief. "I must have something to do! If you do not let me, I shall run mad. I may even take my poetry to my Lord Elrond for his opinion."

Arwen laughed and looked at her. Athelas was already pinching the fabric about her shoulders, arranging its folds. "Only if you promise not to sing anything while you're sewing," she told her.

The Fellowship had been travelling for days. Aragorn was not sure if Gimli and Legolas were reaching some sort of understanding with each other, but they were beginning to afford each other a grudging respect. However, their latest game, endurance, was starting to bother him.

After Gimli's display with the axe, Legolas had been more quiet than usual. Not that he ever spoke much. When Aragorn had taken him aside one night to find out what was bothering his tall friend, Legolas had surprised him by talking about Arwen.

"She's waiting for you, Aragorn," the elf said.

"I don't want to discuss it," the Ranger replied.

They continued in hushed voices, the others unable to understand the whispered Sindarin. Merry and Pippin were instantly curious, and moved closer, until Gimli saw them and pulled them back to the fire.

"It's obviously private," he told them reprovingly.

"What do you think it's about?" Merry asked him.

"Not for me to say," Gimli answered, lighting his pipe and making himself comfortable against a fallen log. Boromir looked over at Gandalf, who was smoking thoughtfully. The man from Gondor felt his thoughts grow dark, and to shake them off, got to his feet to give the hobbits another lesson.

Their voices muffled by the clang of steel on steel, the two friends continued to argue. It became heated, as Aragorn tried to convince the elf that he was acting in Arwen's best interest. Legolas would not believe him, or accept the rationalizations he was offered.

"She will stay," he told the Ranger, absolutely convinced of it.

"I would have her go!" Aragorn snapped back, the pain in his eyes evident. "I would not have her throw her life away on me."

"At least give her a choice!" Legolas retorted. "You show her no respect by taking her decision from her!"

"How dare you say that?" Aragorn spat out. "You have no idea what you are. . . !"

Both were surprised by Gandalf laying a hand on each of their shoulders.

"Enough!" he said gruffly. "You will do no one any good if you continue to bicker like this! I need you both alert and focused on the task at hand. There will be time for debate later!"

Legolas hung his head in contrition. "Of course, Gandalf." Then he turned his eyes to Aragorn. "Forgive me, my friend. I have no wish to fight with you."

The Ranger was still angry, and Gandalf gripped his shoulder tighter. He looked at the elf with scorn. Gandalf regarded him with understanding in his wise but still youthful eyes. After a moment, Aragorn sighed.

"The fault is mine," he said softly to the elf. "I do not wish to argue with you either, my friend."

Legolas gripped his shoulder and Aragorn returned the gesture. Gandalf gave them both an affectionate shake and went back to his seat. Sam was serving up dinner, and Legolas and Aragorn made their way back to the fire, peace restored.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

_A/N: Lyrics are from The Blesssing by Celtic Women. Again, my own lyrics are bad._

Arwen walked calmly and quietly through the halls of Rivendell. Reaching the gardens, she strolled silently through the new growth of an early spring. Her beautiful face was composed and her eyes bright. She fought down the dread she had felt in the night. She was looking for solace and knew where it might be found.

The gardens were wet with dew as she stepped delicately along the paths. The golden light of the dawn kissed her fingertips as she reached up to inspect new shoots and buds. She found joy in the warmth and growth of the earth. It reassured her, comforted her in a way nothing else could. It was a renewal, a promise that life would continue.

Arwen loved this land. Although she had spent much time in Lothlorien, Rivendell was her home. She knew every corner, every stream. This was the place she belonged. Her father's growing entreaties that she leave, join the others in Valinor were easy to ignore here.

How could she leave? Her life was here, with Aragorn. He had been wrapped around her heart for far too long for her to believe he would not return to her. Memories of him were all around her.

As she walked her mind travelled back to earlier and happier days spent in his company. Together they had walked these paths, listened to the gently falling water. The green scent in the air was strong as she strayed from the path and her soft bare feet gently bent the new grass. It triggered other memories.

She recalled a time when they had both been flush with new love. Smiling secretly to herself she remembered his voice, his eyes, his tender words. Felt once again the promise of his kisses. She shivered to recollect the beat of her heart as she had confessed that she returned his love.

Yes, her choice had been made. She would stay with him, in this land. There were no doubts to trouble her now. She was bound to Aragorn, and he to her, and they were both tied to this world. The fears that troubled her sleep were forgotten.

As she made her way back to her father's house, she stopped as the strains of a delicate arpeggio on the standing harp reached her ears. She was surprised to hear Athelas raise her voice in song. Her friend was not a strong singer, and Arwen was fascinated by the power in her voice now.

She recognized it, of course. The song had been old when the Last Alliance set out to face the Enemy. A blessing on one setting out on a journey or far from home. If she remembered aright, it had even been sung the night before the Fellowship left. But never had she heard it like this. It was not psalm, it was prayer.

Athelas began the second verse and Arwen found herself gently and softly singing along with her.

"_In the nighttime when you sleep,_

_Oh, I bless you while a watch I keep,_

_As you lie in slumber deep,_

_My blessing goes with you."_

She realized the truth of it. Never before had she worried about Aragorn as she had in the preceding nights. She dreamt of him, saw him fall. Yet she would take upon her sleeplessness for all the nights ahead if it would protect him. The quest must not fail. She shuddered, the thought of what could happen should they fail forcing itself upon her once again. She realized that she was fighting the great fear with the smaller ones, the personal ones.

_When the storms of life are strong,_

_When your wounded, when you don't belong_

_When you no longer hear my song,_

_My blessing goes with you._

He was so far from her, and yet ever beside her. She could close her eyes and bring his face before her, his very scent. She felt again a stab of worry for him, her heart stopping for a brief moment as she scolded herself. He was a fierce warrior, tried in many battles. He was surrounded by companions who were both brave and valiant. The thought of Legolas came briefly to mind, and she felt soothed by the knowledge that the elf was with him. If he were wounded, Gandalf was there. There was nothing in the world that could harm Gandalf. The thought cheered her.

"_When your weary heart is tired,_

_If the world will leave you uninspired,_

_When nothing more of love's desired,_

_My blessing goes with you._

His heart would never fail him. She had known him, loved him, long enough to know that nothing but death would stop him. He had seen so much, lived through so many battles. But underneath the warrior was a poet, a dreamer. The soul of a king, hidden beneath the guise of the wanderer. She comforted herself with that thought. She had given him her heart, there was nothing else for her to do. She must hope, she must fight the dark terrors of the night.

_This is my prayer for you_

_There for you, ever true._

_Each every day for you_

_In everything you do._

Her lips trembling, she gave herself over to a new determination. She would not allow herself to think of the darkness that could come, she would concentrate on the joy that must come.

_And when you come to me_

_And hold me close to you_

_I bless you and you bless me, too._

The closing words of the song renewed her, strengthened her. They would succeed. The shadow she felt now would lift and life would continue. It was the spring's promise to her. It was her promise to him.

She walked quietly to Athelas' door and knocked gently. When she entered she found her friend wiping her damp cheeks. Arwen smiled at her in understanding and embraced her as she stood. They held each other for a moment, then Athelas began the bustle that Arwen recognized as her hiding deep emotions.

Sitting together, sipping a calming tea, they were discussing the pattern for the hem of the new gown when Elrond knocked and entered, his face grave.

"Gandalf has fallen," he told them, his voice stark.

Arwen gasped in horror, naked fear on her face. The teacup fell through Athelas' fingers to smash on the stone floor.

Legolas sat on a certain rock some distance away from Haldir's home. He had come here hoping the happy memories of this part of Lothlorien would help salve the grief in his heart. Since the fall of Gandalf, he had found himself doubting everything about this quest. If Gandalf could be taken, was there any hope left for them? Galadriel believed there was, and he would follow Frodo until the end, but he found the pain in his soul was hard for him to bear. It had taken years for him to recover from his mother's passing, and he'd had his father's help. Here he was far from home.

He heard footsteps behind him, and slipped of the rock to face the March Warden.

"I have a message for you, kinsman," Haldir said, coming up softly from behind him, a kind glint in his eyes. "It came from Imladris with Elrond's letters to the Lady. I wanted to give it to you when you were alone. This is the first chance I've had." He held out a small piece of parchment, folded many times and sealed with wax. It was not quite flat, and Legolas looked up at Haldir with a question in his eyes.

"We both know who it's from," Haldir said gently. He gripped Legolas by the shoulder, then pulled him into a rough embrace. "She would never forgive me if I left you alone with your despair. Come and eat with us, when you've finished your business here. I've some of that strong wine you were both so fond of." He smiled at the young elf, and left him alone with his letter.

In the fading sunlight Legolas carefully broke the wax seal and unfolded the paper. A single leaf fell out, long and green and beginning to dry. He picked it up gently and smiled. A green leaf of _athelas. _His eyes scanned the short message penned on the parchment.

"_My lord, she waits, as do I."_

He smiled and held the leaf up, breathing in it's gentle scent. A play on both their names, they often used the leaves in messages to each other. Feeling a small part of the grief in his heart lift, he made his way back to Haldir's home.

The company settled in for the night in the comfortable pavilion provided by Celeborn. Legolas joined them after a while, explaining that he'd spent the evening with some old friends. Aragorn smiled at him, and watched the elf settle himself into the low branches of one of the great trees that made up the walls of their shelter.

"Aragorn," Gimli said quietly, "yon elf, is he alright?" He nodded towards the tree Legolas was perched in. The elf was leaning back against the trunk, his hair glowing in the faint light. His long legs, stretched out along the limb, and one shoulder, were all Aragorn could see of him.

The Ranger turned to look sleepily at the dwarf. "What do you mean?" he asked, lifting an eyebrow.

"He's making a strange noise." Gimli told him, somehow looking a little abashed, but mostly concerned. "Almost as if he is buzzing."

Aragorn was instantly awake. Sitting up, he listened intently, his face furrowed. Elves did not fall prey to disease, but Legolas had been devastated by Gandalf's fall. Elves were not conditioned to deal with death. It simply did not make up part of their world view. Grief could do terrible things to an elf.

As he recognized the low sound, some of the tension left Aragorn's face. Relieved, he turned to the worried dwarf. "He's singing, Gimli."

"Singing?" the dwarf asked loudly, clearly startled. Aragorn motioned him to be silent, but it was too late.

"I can stop if it bothers you," Legolas said affably from his comfortable haven in the tree across the clearing. "I was trying to be quiet as to not wake the others."

"What singing?" Merry asked sleepily from beside Pippin.

"Go back to sleep, Merry," Aragorn said softly, smacking Gimli in the arm. "You don't want to wake the others. Especially Frodo. He needs his rest."

"Don't worry about me, Aragorn. I'm already awake." Frodo's voice came out of the darkness.

"I wasn't asleep anyway." Boromir said from the other side of the pavilion. "You might as well sing it louder so we can all hear it, Legolas."

The elf swung down out of the tree and took a seat by Sam. The young hobbit was sitting up groggily, and Legolas smiled at him briefly before closing his eyes and beginning his song in a soft warm voice.

"Is that the same song?" Gimli asked, catching the Ranger's eye. "It's hard to tell when he's not buzzing."

Aragorn hushed him, and as Legolas sang, the companion's drifted off to sleep, some of the horror of the past days dimming.

In the morning, to the surprise of the rest of the companions, Legolas invited the dwarf to join him in a walk among the great trees. Gimli readily agreed, and they were soon hiking along together. Legolas seemed to have a destination in mind, and Gimli was content to follow.

"I was very impressed with your words to the Lady, Gimli." Legolas said, as they made their way past the great roots of the mallorn trees.

"I speak as I find," Gimli said. He was unsure if he should explain to the elf the feeling he'd had, of looking into the face of the enemy and discovering love there. Something in his expression, however made an impression on Legolas.

"Sometimes, it is easier to accept things as they seem, than to take the time to discover the truth. It takes courage to look into the heart of anything."

"That is does, lad." Gimli agreed, wondering where the elf was leading with this conversation.

"I would say something personal to you, Gimli." Legolas began, then stopped, looking about him. "I have not always been charitable towards you," he continued bluntly, leading the dwarf around another massive tree.

Gimli looked at him with surprise, then he chuckled. "Perhaps I have not always given you reason to, Legolas," he replied. The elf smiled down at him.

"Or I to you," he said, his eyes twinkling. "I would have us be friends." He led the dwarf up to the rock he'd been seated on the previous day. As he settled himself on it, Gimli noticed the change in his face, the sense of peace that seemed to descend on the elf.

"This place is special to you?" the dwarf asked, settling himself beside the elf and pulling out his pipe.

"It is. Do you believe in visions, Gimli?"

"I don't know about elf visions, but I'm sure that such things exist. Have you had one, Legolas? Is that why you brought me here?"

"I was told of one. In it I left on a journey with a dwarf. I have reason to believe that the dwarf was you."

"Out of all the dwarves you've travelled with, of course." Gimli pointed out, packing his pipe. Legolas chuckled at that.

"There was that in the vision that gives me hope for this journey. I didn't realize it until last night. I thought I might share that hope with you."

Gimli lit his pipe and shook out the match, careful to make sure it was extinguished before burying it in the loamy soil. He looked at the elf intently. "It's kind of you, Legolas. We could all use a little extra faith, especially since Moria. May I ask whence this vision came?"

Legolas looked out at the trees. "My wife," he said, in a quiet voice. "I was married, right over there. She told me of it then." He gestured to a space between the huge mallorns.

Gimli choked for a moment on his smoke. "Wife!" he sputtered. "I can't imagine you putting enough words together to court anyone!"

Legolas grinned mischievously at him, a real smile that reached his eyes. "I had a little help. My Lady has certain tenacious friends, as well as being very persuasive herself." He laughed in remembrance. "As I recall, her exact phrase was 'thick headed, wooly witted thing'."

Gimli's eyes danced as he laughed along with the elf. "I can't wait to meet her. She sounds delightful!"

"Oh, but you have, my friend. You recall the Lady Athelas?"

He laughed again at the surprise behind the dwarf's beard. "That charming, amiable girl? She never dropped a hint! I thought she was of Imladris!"

"She grew up in Lord Elrond's house with Lady Arwen. Her kin are here in Lorien, which is how we came to be married here. It is also where she had the vision of which I was speaking earlier. Neither of us understand all of it, but enough of it to light me through these dark days. I would share that with you, as we both seem to be part of it."

"I thank you," Gimli said, formally, inclining his head. Then he grinned. "You did well, lad. The Lady Athelas." He looked delighted. "I never would have thought either of you old enough."


End file.
